A Light Extinguished
by Stormchilde
Summary: Deeks case suddenly becomes an NCIS case when the detective is taken down by an unknown assailant
1. Chapter 1

She listened to the voice mail message again.

"Hey Ken, it's Wes. Listen, I need you to bring me those headshots of the new girl, Tiffany, right away. Meet me at the bistro on the corner of Robertson and Wilshire ASAP. Thanks."

The time stamp was 11:42 p.m. Although he'd identified himself as Wes she knew the sound of his voice – it was Deeks. If she'd told him once, she'd told him twenty times not to call her Ken. She had no idea what he was talking about or what he wanted. His voice betrayed just a hint of nervousness and a lot of immediacy.

It had been two weeks since she'd heard from him, Deeks was undercover with some new LAPD assignment that he hadn't told them anything about. She hated to admit it, but she'd begun to miss him.

She wove her silver Caddy through the downtown gridlock, wondering what had possessed the detective to request a meeting with her in the trendy area at the height of rush hour. The place was sure to be packed with yuppies on lunch breaks.

Kensi cut off a bright blue maserati for a space that had just opened up in front of a boutique that featured lacy lingerie in the display window. The woman in the driver's seat of the low slung sports car flipped the agent off with a professionally manicured hand and shouted "Bitch!"

Kensi rolled down her window and returned the gesture. She checked her hair and makeup in the mirror, touched up her lipstick and then got out of the car, locking it behind her.

She smoothed her red mini skirt, checked that the black silk blouse wasn't showing too much cleavage and started up the street, tapping her Louis Vuitton clutch on her hip.

The bistro Deeks had requested that she meet him at was a block up; it took her almost fifteen minutes to reach it due to the heavy crowds on the sidewalk.

She stood in front of the restaurant and scanned the faces at the tables, expecting to spot him relaxing with a fizzing drink of some bizarre color. No sign of the liaison officer.

She turned her attention to the crowds that thronged the garden area to the side of the establishment. It was filled with people talking and sipping muddy colored drinks that judging from the color was obviously some sort of health food fad.

There. She finally spotted the detective at the far edge of the crowd, near the tight box-shaped hedges. He was wearing an expensive light blue, short sleeved shirt, sharp creased grey slacks and brown loafers. His normally messy blond hair was combed back with a fringe just brushing his right eye.

Something about the stiffness of his posture gave her a twinge of anxiety and she quickly crossed the grass to him.

There were fresh scratches on his neck and right cheek and he was missing his left shoe.

"Wes?"

He jerked around and stared at her as though he had no idea who she was. His eyes were wide, unfocused, with only a narrow ring of blue visible.

"I can't find it." he mumbled, his hands fluttered nervously over his chest and he looked away, seeming to search the crowd.

"Can't find what?" Kensi asked. "Are you looking for your shoe?"

He glanced down at his feet, a confused look flashed across his face. "My shoe? No. No. Where is it? I have to find it."

She moved closer, laid a hand on his arm and he flinched.

"Marty," she said softly, "Are you alright?"

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, "It's so bright out here, it hurts my head."

He swayed on his feet and she tightened her grip on his arm.

"Let's go sit," she glanced around at the crowded tables, "somewhere…"

"I can't find it." he repeated. "I have to find it before…" he pressed his palm against the side of his head, "before…" he moaned and stumbled.

She couldn't support his sudden dead weight and let him slide down her hip and leg to the turf.

The conversations around her died as the lunch crowd took notice of them.

"Get back," Kensi demanded as they pressed closer, "Give him some air."

"Is he dead?" someone asked.

"Call 911!" someone else shouted.

The voices around her faded into a buzzing background as Kensi checked Deeks for obvious injuries. She could find no blood, wounds or broken bones.

Her heart lurched in her chest, Deeks was barely breathing and the pulse under her fingers on his neck was irregular, pulsing hard for a moment then barely discernable the next.

Sirens sounded, she was grateful now that Deeks had picked a location so close to the police station and the ambulance service. One thing about Beverly Hills, the response time was incredible.

In moments a pair of blue suited paramedics arrived with a stretcher, two uniformed patrol officers just steps behind them. The crowd of onlookers was swiftly moved back.

Kensi allowed one of the cops to lift her to her feet so the medics could get to Deeks.

"Can you tell us what happened here, miss?" the officer asked her.

"We were talking and he collapsed." Kensi replied, never taking her eyes off the fallen detective.

The paramedics worked swiftly on Deeks, asking her questions as they worked.

"Was he complaining about anything?"

"He said the light was hurting him, he had a headache."

"Any history of seizures, diabetes or stroke?"

"No, I don't think so." Kensi stuttered. "I don't know really."

"Was he stumbling or confused?"

"He wasn't acting like himself," she admitted, "he was looking for something he'd lost and it wasn't his shoe."

"Is he taking any medication or using drugs?"

"No," she protested, "he wouldn't use drugs."

"Are you sure?"

Worry made her reply sharper than intended, "Absolutely, he hates to even take an aspirin."

"Pupils fixed and dilated." one paramedic reported and Kensi gasped.

"Glasco score is three, RAS negative, BP dropping, respiration irregular. We need to bag him."

"What's happening?" she asked, her voice spiraling into a panicked high pitch. "What are they talking about?"

One of the police officers took her by the arm and held her back, "Please miss, they're trying to help your friend."

"I'm losing him!" the medic shouted.

"Let's move!"

They loaded Deeks onto the stretcher and rushed him toward the ambulance.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where are they taking him?" Kensi asked the police officer who had held onto her.

"Olympia Medical Center, they have the best Emergency Center of all the hospitals in the city. Your friend is in good hands." he replied. "Would you like us to call someone to take you?"

"No. No, I can call someone, thank you." Kensi pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Sam I need you to meet me at the bistro on the corner of Robertson and Wilshire immediately. I'll explain when you get here. And tell Callen to wear something nice." A smile tugged at her lips as she heard the smaller agent protest. "Thanks Sam, I'll see you in fifteen."

_**XxXxXx**_

The lunch crowd was starting to thin as Sam and Callen arrived. The duo attracted a lot of attention as they crossed the lawn to Kensi.

Sam was dressed in a pair of snug black chinos and a long sleeved tight white shirt that showed off his impressive muscles, for a moment Kensi wondered where the heck his gun was hidden.

Callen's appearance quickly derailed that train of thought. G was dressed in a light blue Hugo Boss with the top four buttons undone and a cream colored pair of cotton twill slacks. He looked like he had just left a GQ shoot.

"You're staring." Callen chided her.

"So is everyone else." she pointed out.

Callen grinned, "You said I should dress nice."

"And you did, I'm impressed."

"You look pretty hot yourself." Callen's eyes never rose higher than her chest.

Kensi put a hand over the bare skin above her blouse.

"What happened?" Sam asked, "I thought you were supposed to be meeting Deeks here." His voice dropped to a threatening tone, "Did he stand you up?"

"No," Kensi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I met him but there is something wrong. He was acting strange…"

"Strange is nothing new for Deeks." Callen laughed.

"He looked like he's been in a fight – there were scratches on his face and neck and he was acting like he didn't know who I was, then he collapsed."

"What?" Sam said, "Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Kensi's voice cracked and Callen reached out a comforting hand.

"The ambulance took him away just a few minutes ago and…" she wiped at her eyes, "and they said…they said they were losing him."

Sam stepped closer, lending his support with his nearness. "Where did they take him?"

"Olympia."

"That's good," Sam nodded, "Olympia is a small hospital but it's staffed by the best."

"Did he say why he wanted to meet you?" Callen asked. "Did he sound worried about anything?"

"No. He just asked me to meet him here ASAP."

"Was he with anyone? Did you see who he might have been fighting with?" Sam asked.

"No. I saw him standing over there by the hedges near the trees." Kensi pointed, "He was really still and quiet. When I got to him I saw the scratches and saw that he was missing a shoe."

"So where's the shoe?" asked Sam, "He probably lost that wherever he got into the fight."

"I haven't looked." Kensi bit her lip, looking worried.

"You go on to the hospital, Kensi," G told her, "Sam and I will snoop around here and see what we can find."

"Okay, thanks G, Sam. I'll call you when I know anything about Deeks." she walked away quickly and soon disappeared.

They started toward the hedges when a willowy blond in a skin tight midnight blue mini dress stepped between Sam and Callen.

"My God, you are gorgeous!" She squeezed Sam's bicep with her long, slender fingers and slipped a card into his hand. She leaned in close to him, "Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it." she whispered, staring up into his eyes.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, puzzled by what she could have meant.

"I had no idea bodyguards could be big AND beautiful." she winked, "Call me," she called back over her shoulder as she walked back to her table.

Callen didn't say anything but the smirk on his face spoke volumes.

"Just shut up." Sam grumbled good-naturedly, tucking the card in his pocket. "This is all your fault anyway, you dressing like Warren Beatty. All you need is some gold chains."

Just beyond the hedges was a small copse of trees. There was a narrow open space between the hedges and a light path that led away. It didn't take long for them to find the spot where Deeks had lost his shoe.

The brown loafer lay on the ground just inches away from a body.

A man who looked to be about twenty-five years old and weighed at least 220 pounds was sprawled on the grass. His blond hair was cropped close and his blue eyes stared up the sky. The pockets of his jeans were turned inside out; his blue tee shirt was stained with dirt and blood.

Callen picked up a wallet that had been tossed on the ground between the feet of the body while Sam checked the body.

"Dead." Sam reported, "Still warm. He's been beaten pretty badly, the fingers of his right hand are broken and so is his neck."

"Money and credit cards are still here so it wasn't a mugging." G held the wallet out so Sam could see the ID, "Navy identification. Looks like he was one of yours."

"A Seal?" Sam scowled, "So it's our case." He studied the body, "How the hell did Deeks manage to break the neck of a Navy Seal?"

"And come out of it with just a few scratches."

Sum huffed, "He got more than that, if they're taking him to Olympia."

"Why would Deeks kill this guy and then go through all his pockets? What was he looking for?"

"This makes no sense at all." Sam paced, "Why would Deeks call Kensi to meet him here if he was going to kill a Navy Seal?"

"He wanted a friendly investigator?"

Sam glared at Callen who just shrugged.

"Maybe it wasn't Deeks."

"Did you notice any other Cinderellas out there? I think a guy missing a shoe would stand out in a crowd like that." Sam looked aggravated, "We're going to have to work with Beverly Hills PD on this on since it's smack in the middle of their turf and we need their help to question all these people. We're going to be here for hours; you call Kensi and give her the heads up. Let Hetty know, she'll probably want to go be with Kensi."

"Why do I get to make all the fun phone calls?" Callen complained.

"Because I get to explain to BHPD how this whole mess became a joint venture." He cocked an eyebrow at his partner, "Unless you want to trade?"

"Nope." Callen pulled out his phone and started dialing

_**XxXxXx**_

Parking was no problem, the hospital had plenty of spaces and Kensi wondered why. There didn't seem to be the large crowd of sick and injured that one usually saw at a city hospital. She strode through the Emergency Room doors and looked around. The few people sitting in the waiting room glanced up at her for a moment and then went back to their magazines and the TV that hung in the corner.

The room was small, dimly lit but surprising clean and smelled lightly of fresh flowers.

"Sign in here, miss." An older woman dressed in blue scrubs called from behind the desk.

"I'm not here to see a doctor; my friend was just brought in by ambulance."

"The respiratory arrest?"

Kensi's eyes watered, "We were about to have lunch at Café Bel Flur."

"Yes, he's in room 3." she put out an arm to stop Kensi, "I'm afraid you'll have to wait here for a little bit, the doctors are still stabilizing him."

Kensi stiffened and the nurse patted her on the shoulder, "Dr. Crandle from Cedars Sinai is on call, he's the best ER doc in LA County."

Kensi looked around helplessly and the nurse tugged her to a seat behind the desk. "You sit right here, honey and I'll get you a cup of tea."

Before Kensi could decline the drink the woman had disappeared into another room. She returned less than a minute later with a small china cup. The steam that lifted from it was aromatic and soothing.

Kensi took the cup, closed her eyes and just breathed in the scent.

"That's my girl." the nurse said with a smile. "Nice slow, deep breaths. Better now?"

Kensi raised her head, looked at the nurse and smiled weakly, "Yes, thank you."

"My own special blend of chamomile, honey and orchid. I'm afraid the flavor still needs some work but you can't beat the smell."

"It's wonderful." Kensi agreed. She didn't taste it.

The paramedics came out of the treatment room and stopped at the desk. The older one recognized Kensi.

"Don't you worry miss," he smiled reassuringly, "he's in good hands."

"Thank you," said Kensi, "Thank you for getting to him so fast and for getting him here."

He gave her a half salute, "Just doing my job."

His partner grinned and gave him a punch on the arm, "Come on lover boy, let's go."

Another man came out of the treatment room, he was dressed in blue scrubs and a white coat, a stethoscope was hung around his neck and he carried a sheaf of papers.

He was taller than Kensi, with brown hair and brown eyes. About thirty-five years old, he walked with a confidence that marked him as a doctor, not a nurse.

"Are you a friend of Mr. Deeks?" he asked.

Kensi nodded, her mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. She set the teacup on the counter.

"Mr. Deeks has suffered respiratory arrest and that had caused him to slip into a coma. He is not breathing on his own at this point. We have intubated him and placed him on a respirator." he leaned across the desk, "It is vital that we find out what caused this so that we can give him the proper treatment as soon as possible so that he does not suffer any more ill affects."

Kensi nodded and the doctor continued.

"You told the paramedics that he is not diabetic?"

"He's not."

"I've examined him and do not find any signs of traumatic head injury or stroke, although we will be performing more tests to make certain of that." His voice dropped to a lower tone, no less insistent.

"I know that you also told the paramedics that your friend does not take any medication nor use any illegal drugs. If he has taken some kind of drug and has overdosed on it and that is what caused this sudden loss of consciousness it is of the utmost importance that I know what it is immediately."

Angry now, Kensi got to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. "He's a cop, he wouldn't _do_ drugs!"

"Police officers are human and are just as likely to abuse drugs as anyone else."

"Not Deeks!" she insisted.

"Okay. " The doctor folded his hands and leaned on his elbows. "We are going to do some tests on Mr. Deeks to see if we can determine what caused the respiratory arrest. I've set him up for a lumbar puncture; do you know what that is?"

"A spinal tap?"

"Yes. We will take a small sample of the fluid from his spinal canal to see if he has some kind of infection. There is a small risk of spinal damage from this procedure but we feel that is a necessary step to take at this point."

"Anything, please. I just want you to help him."

He nodded and made some notes on the chart on the desk. "I've also scheduled him for a CT scan and EEG"

"I know what a CAT scan is, but what's an EEG?"

"Electroencephalography. An EEG measures the electrical activity inside the brain. Small electrodes are attached to the scalp, the electrodes pick up the brain's electrical impulses, which are recorded on the EEG machine. With this we can see if he's suffered any brain damage such as that which may have been caused by a stroke."

"Can I see him." her eyes filled with tears, "Please, just for a minute?"

The doctor nodded, "We've got to get the CT suite prepped, so you can stay with him until the technician comes down for him."

"Thank you."

The nurse handed Kensi a box of Kleenex and the agent pulled a few from it.

"Thanks." Kensi headed down the hall.

Treatment room 3 was one of the larger cubicles but it seemed small because of all the equipment around the bed. Lights flashed, machines hummed, beeped and hissed.

Kensi stepped up and leaned across the bed rail to brush the back of her hand across Marty's cheek. His flesh felt cold and stiff under her fingers.

"Hey partner," she sniffled, trying to sound like nothing was wrong. "You've certainly got the whole place in an uproar with this stunt. You know Hetty is not going to be happy when she finds out that you are loafing around in a Beverly Hills Hospital."

The room felt icy cold to her. She tugged the sheet higher, folding it over his bare chest and hoping that it wouldn't disturb the monitors that were stuck all over him but she didn't want him to be chilled. She smoothed the sheet then took his hand in hers. The plastic hood of the oxygen monitor clipped on his finger made his skin glow red.

"There's going to be a lot of stuff happening to you in a little bit, so you better behave yourself, okay?" she tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. "They are going to do some tests on you to find out what happened." She tucked his hand under the comfort of the sheet.

"The doctor seems to think that you might have overdosed on some kind of drug but I told him no way. You better not make a liar out of me Deeks, you hear me?" She heard a sound behind her, looked back at the door and saw the tech standing there with an apologetic smile.

"It looks like your escort is here so I have to let you go. I'll see you as soon as you're done."

The tech moved in as she stepped back.

"After he's done with the CT and the EEG we'll be moving him upstairs to a room. If you want to, you can wait in the waiting room on the fourth floor. I'll make sure that someone lets you know when we finish and where he'll be." she said.

Kensi twisted the Kleenex in her hands, "Thank you."

_**ZZZzzzzz…**_

The muse is trying to kill me on this one… she has changed the entire plot of this story FIVE TIMES !

I like this last one (I hope it's the last one) it's fresh and interesting.

Sad news is that my computer has picked up a virus from an infected jpeg – not sure where I got it from 'cause I've been picking up maps of Los Angeles, LA clubs and pictures of the NCISLA cast and I've lost about half the stuff from my external hard drive to it.

It's slow going trying to recover the files and I'm doing a lot of work on the computer that does not involve writing fanfic.

But I shall persevere!

With lots of encouragement from:

Izzie McCool, GingerAmI, ShadowWolfDagger, BlueEyes444, Katrina DiNozzo, Silver Mirror, AutumnxLovex, Sprite, Picchic, and Tp96 ! Thank You! Thank you for encouraging me to write more.

lynneanne: Sam features a lot in the upcoming chapters, I hope you'll like that. It's not Marty's fault (this time) he's caught in the middle…

LostForeverInHisEyes: As one of my other OCs once said "It's not my fault…" Deeks just seems to have a natural aptitude for finding trouble all by his little lonesome ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Kensi's phone had gone straight to voicemail; Hetty was in a meeting she couldn't leave yet.

"What about the twins or Mama C?" Sam asked, "Should we call them?"

"I would if I had a phone number. I hate to just call the club and leave a message."

Sam rubbed at his temple, a sure sign that he was getting tense, "With the connections they have, they probably are already at the hospital anyway."

The Beverly Hills policemen who had arrived with the ambulance returned after Sam called to let them know about the body.

Sergeant Holliman and Officer Baker were polite and helpful – something the NCIS agents were not use to. The pair offered to interview the patrons of the bistro while Callen and Sam examined the woods while they waited for the coroner.

"It's like … The Stepford Wives but with cops." Callen shuddered.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "it's weird but kind of nice for a change."

Callen found a dime and two pennies, Sam, a lighter with a Jack of Spades embossed on it but that was all they discovered.

The NCIS coroner arrived in the big silver van and got to work on the body quickly.

"I've got three more waiting in the box." she explained.

Rose confirmed the cause of death, "Unless there is something I'm not seeing, he died of a broken neck. I'll call you if I find anything interesting once I get him on the table."

After the coroner moved the body they found a cell phone.

Callen flipped it open, "Five missed calls, four voice mails and four text messages today. He was a popular guy."

"Anything interesting?"

"Four of the calls are from someone named Chris Santori, text messages from people named Chris and Beth. Looks like the Chris person really wanted to get in touch with him."

They went back and spoke with the police officers who were finished interviewing the patrons. All of the eyewitnesses had said essentially the same thing – Marty had been sitting at one of the tables talking on his phone doing the usual Hollywood thing, dropping the names of actors. It appeared that he was waiting for someone.

When Robert Lansing crossed the patio, nervously looking around, Marty had followed him to the trees and then returned about thirty or forty-five minutes later looking like as one of the witnesses had put it "… he'd had a deliciously wicked time".

Kensi had shown up shortly after that and then the police and ambulance. No one recognized either man, nor had they seen anyone else enter or exit the woods.

"Great." Callen grumbled, "Everyone around here is so blasé about everything that even a murder has no effect on them.

"Blasé, that's a pretty fancy word for you." Sam teased.

"Word a day calendar," G explained, "Kensi got it for me for a housewarming gift."

"She got you a housewarming gift?"

Callen smirked, knowing he was getting to his partner, "Hetty gave me a bird bath."

"I'm going to get you a couch." Sam grumbled.

They thanked the Beverly Hills police for their cooperation and assistance on the case.

"Let us know if there is anything else we can do to assist you". The older of the two officers said.

His partner, Baker, who looked to be about eighteen years old, nodded and smiled showing off his impossibly white teeth. "Anything at all."

"I guess the next stop is his house." said Callen.

"Let's hope we can find something there."

_**XxXxXx**_

Robert Lansing's home was a small white bungalow on Willow, near the San Diego freeway. The noise was constant and somewhat annoying. The small yard was neatly trimmed, as were the ornamental bushes that were planted around the house. A large deck behind the house faced the freeway.

The front door was painted glossy black, matching the small shutters that framed the windows. Callen tried the knob, it was unlocked and he swung the door open slowly. The interior of the house was a mess, furniture was overturned, entertainment components pulled from the shelves and DVDs were out of their cases and scattered on the floor.

"I'd say we weren't the only ones hoping to find something here." Callen mused.

Sam stepped carefully through the chaos in the living room to the small kitchen beyond. It was just as messy. The cabinet doors and drawers were all open, the contents strewn on the floor. Broken glass and crockery was covered with flour, cereal and pasta.

"Whoever it was, was pretty thorough." said Sam, walking back to the bathroom. "They didn't miss a thing."

Soap and shampoo made a gaudy collage of colors on the white tile. The contents of the medicine cabinet filled the sink. Every single container, no matter what the contents, had been opened and emptied. Towels were pitched in the bathtub and the shower curtain had been ripped from the rings and tossed on top of them. Even the toilet paper had been unrolled, the cardboard tube shredded.

The entire house, small as it was, had been thoroughly ransacked. It looked like a tornado had touched down inside. Framed photographs had been pulled off the wall, the frames and glass shattered, photos ripped and strewn about like confetti.

In the cramped bedroom, the computer components had been smashed and thrown on the floor, disks flung everywhere. Clothing from the dresser and closet had been pulled out and tossed down.

"Check this out, G." Sam pointed to the top of the dresser; scratches marred the dark walnut surface. "What do you suppose was up here?" He looked around at the devastation.

"It wasn't the computer." said G. "all the wire and cords are on the desk on the other side of the room.

"Something small and heavy. Let's ask his friend Chris what Robert kept on his dresser."

Callen called the number he'd found on Robert's phone and explained that he was a Navy investigator and needed to meet with him, G refused to explain why. After hanging up he relayed the address Chris had given him to Sam.

_**XxXxXx**_

Chris Santori's house was large enough that three of Robert's could have fit inside it. The neighborhood was better but the house had a neglected air to it. The lawn needed to be mowed and the flowerbeds had been overgrown with weeds. Not noticeable from the street, but once you were on the porch, you could see that the house could use a fresh coat of paint.

G rang the doorbell; they could hear the discordant chimes through the door.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "Not much similarity."

The door was opened by twenty-something man with short cropped sandy brown hair, hazel eyes and a worried expression.

"Are you the officer I spoke with?" he asked suspiciously, bracing himself behind the scuffed white door.

Sam and G flashed their credentials.

"Can we come in?" Sam asked.

The man stepped back, "Yeah, sure."

They entered, standing in the large open room. Sunlight from the windows on the two sides of the room patterned the dingy carpet and mismatched furniture. Two men who had been perched on the couch stood up.

"These are my friends, Adam Buckner and Matt Lambert. We are all friends of Robert's." Chris led them further into the room. "What's going on? Why do you want to ask us questions about Robert?"

"We're investigating a homicide…" G was interrupted by the dark haired man, Matt.

"Robert's dead?"

Sam exchanged a glance with his partner, "He was murdered in Beverly Hills a few hours ago."

"Murdered? That's impossible!"

"He was beaten and his neck was broken. We believe whoever killed him was trying to take something away from him because the fingers of his right hand were also broken."

Matt staggered back, a hand over his mouth and his eyes wide. He glanced from Adam to Chris and back again.

"We just talked to him this morning." said Chris. "He was going to run some errands and then meet us here for lunch.

"What kind of errands was he running? Do you know why he would have been in Beverly Hills?"

"I think he was going to pick up a ring for his fiancé." Adam answered.

Chris glared at his friend.

Adam looked at Matt who shrugged.

"Beverly Hills is a pretty pricy place for a Navy Seal to be ring shopping." Callen observed.

"Robert had a ring he had inherited from his grandmother, he wanted to have the diamond reset and he was checking out a lot of different jewelers." Chris said.

"What's his fiancé's name?"

"Beth." Chris answered, "Elizabeth Merrill, she lives in Van Nuys."

"Do you know why he was meeting someone at the Bel Flur Bistro in Beverly Hills?"

"No. I've never even heard of the place. How about you guys?" Chris looked to his friends and they both shook their heads.

"Have you been in Robert's house?"

"All of us have, we played poker there every Thursday." Chris explained.

"There was something heavy that had been dragged off the dresser in his bedroom, do any of you have an idea what that might have been?" asked Sam.

The men looked at one another and Chris spoke up.

"He had a jar on the dresser; it was full of change, nickels mostly, from our poker games."

"Where were you guys this afternoon?" Callen asked.

"Here," Chris answered brusquely, "we've been waiting on Robert to show up."

Adam and Matt were looking at Chris, they nodded.

"Do you know anyone who might have a reason to kill Robert?" Callen asked.

"Robert is… was a good guy, everybody liked him." Chris said. "We don't know anyone who would have wanted to hurt him."

Sam thanked them for their cooperation and the agents left.

Callen buckled his seatbelt, "They were an edgy bunch weren't they?"

"Chris sure seemed to be eager to answer every question."

"And what was the deal with Matt immediately thinking that his friend was dead?"

Sam started the car and pulled onto the street, "That was strange alright."

"I'm going to call the girlfriend and have her meet us at Robert's house, maybe she can tell if there is anything else missing from the house."

"Good idea."

_**XxXxXx**_

Elizabeth Merrill was waiting on the front porch when they pulled into the drive. She explained that she'd been downtown, a short drive from the house and asked that they please call her Beth.

"Someone broke into Robert's house?" she asked. "Why didn't you just call Robert and ask him to see what has been stolen?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this Beth, but Robert is dead, he was killed this afternoon." Callen said.

She didn't say anything, but would have fallen to the ground if not for Sam's arm around her.

"I'm sorry," Sam said, "we didn't want to tell you on the phone."

Beth pulled away from him, tears streaming down her face. "We were going to be married next year." she straitened, wiped the tears with the heel of her hand, "Do you think whoever broke into his house also killed him?"

"We can't rule that out. Whoever killed Robert was obviously looking for something, his pockets had been searched. We hope that you can tell us what they might have killed him to get to."

Beth sniffled and nodded, "I'll do whatever I can."

Sam opened the door, "It's quite a mess."

Beth stopped and stared for a moment, her mouth open, "Oh." she said.

Callen followed her in, "We think that something may have been taken from the dresser in the bedroom."

Beth looked straight ahead as she followed Sam, tears tracking silently down her face.

She lightly touched the surface of the dresser, "He kept a basket up here that I gave him, he tossed his keys and sunglasses, things like that in it. There was a lamp and a big glass jar full of nickels, dimes and quarters."

Sam and Callen looked around, spotted the basket its contents scattered and the broken, crumpled remains of the lamp.

"No jar, no coins." Sam mumbled.

"Why would anyone break into Robert's house and tear everything up just for a jar of coins?" Beth cried, "What was so important about them that they had to … to.." she broke into sobs and Callen put his arm around her.

"We don't know, but we will find out." he promised her.


	4. Chapter 4

"Miss?" the nurse called. She walked up the hall toward Kensi and held out a blue semi-transparent bag. "Your friend's clothes and personal items are in here. I'm sorry, but he only came in with one shoe."

Kensi gave her a quick smile, "Thanks. I noticed he was missing a shoe before the ambulance came." she accepted the bag.

"Take the elevator up to the fourth floor, turn left when you get off. The waiting room is the second door down the hallway on your left."

"Thank you for the tea."

The nurse smiled, "Anytime."

Kensi rode up in the elevator alone, staring at her reflection in the doors. She found the waiting room easily, set the bag on one of the couches and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was hot and surprisingly good.

She sat on one of the couches and flipped through the stations on the television never lingering on any program for more than a few minutes. She finally left it on CNN just to have some sort of background noise.

Every footstep she heard at the door caused her to look hopefully at the corridor, each time it was only someone passing by and she would pace the small room.

Kensi sat back down on one of the couches and picked up a magazine. It didn't take her long to page through every magazine in the small room, the words blurring in her brain. If anyone were to ask, she couldn't have told them anything about any of the articles.

She checked her watch, it was almost two o'clock. She walked over to the window and watched the traffic on the street below. She was leaning her head against the smooth cool glass when someone called to her.

"Excuse me; are you waiting for Mr. Deeks?"

Kensi turned back to the door a hopeful smile on her lips, "Yes."

"If you'll follow me, we have him in a room now."

The nurse led her down the hall to a room on the right, close to the nurses' station.

_**XxXxXx**_

They'd shaved off his scruffy beard and mustache, taped down tubes to his mouth and upper lip.

Small disks with wires attached to them made a trail across his forehead and down his temples, more of them trailed from his hair.

Plastic coated wires also poked out from the collar of the gown he wore. The blood pressure cuff and oxygen monitor were still in place.

Monitors with colored readouts of lines and numbers were placed at the head and left side of the bed, the only information she recognized was his pulse – a steady 52 beats per minute.

"Well you look…" she pursed her lips wanting to say something positive. "…different."

Kensi stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, amazed at the softness of the bare skin she'd never before seen.

Since the first day she'd met him at the gym, Deeks had always worn the grubby beard and mustache, without it he looked like a different person.

She laughed for a moment, "This is not at all how I pictured spending the afternoon with you. I thought we were going to have a nice lunch, see some famous and or rich people and maybe go for a drive."

Suddenly serious, "I have a lot of questions I need to ask you and I can't do that if you're going to sleep all day…" she gave him a gentle shake, "Please, wake up."

He didn't stir and Kensi worried her bottom lip with her teeth and sighed.

"The nurse downstairs gave me your clothes; I guess I should hang them up so they don't get wrinkled."

She opened the bag and pulled out his shirt. Usually it seemed that hospitals emergency rooms cut the clothing off the patients for ease of access. Marty's light blue Armani shirt was intact, unbuttoned and had been folded neatly. She shook out the wrinkles and hung it in the closet.

The grey Armani slacks were stained with dirt and grass, dry cleaning might be the only salvation for them. She hung them beside the shirt.

In the bottom of the bag were Marty's billfold, watch, car keys and a nickel. She smiled ruefully recalling a short lecture he'd given her last month about pocket debris.

"What you carry in your pockets is one of the most important parts of a good cover." he'd told her. "It's every bit as important as what you don't have. Just like you don't want to carry your real ID on you, you do want to have the stuff that the person you are would carry – for instance homeless people have small change, a screwdriver, maybe a nail file and a lighter or matches in their pockets."

She'd laughed, "A homeless guy with a nail file, right."

Marty had shaken his head, "The screwdriver and the nail file are not for their normal uses, Kensi, it's a defensive weapon."

After that, she'd paid more attention to what he'd had to say about getting into character.

It dawned on her then that the nurses and the doctor had all referred to him as Mr. Deeks. She opened his wallet. It didn't contain his police identification, but it did have all his other real ID in it.

"Why would he be on a case with his real ID?" she wondered aloud. She turned and looked at him, "What were you up to Deeks?"

"My boy certainly has a knack for attracting trouble."

Kensi spun to the door.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." Mama Chang said. She walked in and stood beside the bed, she was barely tall enough to see over the bedrail. "At least he picked a good hospital this time."

Kensi looked curiously to the older woman, "This time?"

"A story he will have to relate to you when he wakes up." she tutted, "And you better do that soon, do you hear me young man?" she scolded Marty. She slid her hands between the rails, covering his hand with her small, cocoa colored ones. She bowed her head and her lips moved in silent prayer for a moment.

"There you are." Mama Chang said without looking up.

Sam and G had finally arrived.

"Have you found out who did this yet?" Mama Chang asked, turning away from the bed.

"We're working on it." G replied.

"I'm sorry we didn't call you." said Sam.

She startled Sam with a quick hug, "That's all right; I knew when the ambulance came."

G looked surprised.

"I taught school for forty-two years, which is a lot of children who have now grown up and work all over Los Angeles County. I know a lot of people." she shook her finger at Callen, "And don't you bother doing the math, the length of my years is not important."

Callen nodded, trying to hide a grin.

Kensi told them everything she knew about Marty's condition.

"They don't know why he's in a coma yet, they're hoping to learn something from the lab results or the CAT scan."

"Do they have any idea when he might wake up?" Sam asked, moving closer to the bed.

Kensi shook her head, not trusting her voice at this moment.

"We're going to go check on a few things now." Sam explained to Mama C. "We'll be back."

"Don't you worry about us," she said, settling into the visitor's chair. "You just find out who did this to my boy."

Kensi wrote her cell number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Mama Chang, "Call us if anything changes, if there's any news."

"I will," she held onto Kensi's hand for a moment, "You three be careful."

_**XxXxXx**_

"What I can't figure out is why Deeks had his real ID on him," Kensi complained once they were in the ops room, "Have we been able to find out what case he was working on?" She set the bag containing Deeks wallet and keys on the display table, Eric moved it aside so that he could bring up the wall display.

"LAPD wouldn't tell me anything," Eric said, "But they had plenty to say when Hetty called them."

"Where is Hetty?" Sam asked.

"She's gone to the hospital."

"Now that's a meeting I would like to see." G laughed.

"What meeting?" Eric asked.

"A friend of Deeks' is already there. She's a lot like Hetty." Sam grinned.

"Oh." Eric turned back to his computer, "Anyway Deeks' handler said that Deeks closed his case yesterday and that he hadn't been assigned anything new yet. They have no idea why he was in Beverly Hills this morning."

"Does Rose have any new information on the dead guy?" G asked.

"Preliminary autopsy results backs up her first assessment, he died of a broken neck. Multiple fractures of the right hand, contusions consistent with being in a brawl. No DNA under the fingernails but she did find a green fiber caught on a broken fingernail."

"What was Deeks wearing?" G asked.

"Blue and grey." said Kensi.

"No green?"

Kensi shook her head, "No green."

"Damn." Sam turned back to the information tech, "What did you come up with on Lansing?"

"Robert Lansing was a Seal with the 17th, set to deploy to Afghanistan in less than a week. He joined the Navy in 2006, lots of commendations, no disciplinary charges."

"What about his friends?"

"Now there's a different kettle of fish," Eric grinned, "Chris joined up at the same time as his good friend Robert but his record is as black as Robert's is white. Chris received a dishonorable discharge in 2008 for larceny and theft. The other two have never served in the military but they both have criminal records for residential burglary."

Eric walked over to the screen and brought up a report, "There was a call out to Robert's house three days ago. A neighbor filed a noise complaint."

"It must have been something really loud to be heard over the noise of the freeway." G commented.

"It was a fight between some of the guests at the weekly poker game and cookout. The scuffle spilled over into the neighbor's driveway. No arrests were made but LAPD shut down the party and sent everyone home."

"Any idea what the fight was about?" Callen asked, stepping closer to display. He moved some of the pages around so that he could look at them better.

"No record of that." Eric replied

Sam crossed his arms, frowning. "I guess that's one more thing to ask Chris about."

"What did you dig up on Robert's financials?" Callen was still moving the pages around.

"Just one item of interest and it took quite a bit of digging," Eric smiled triumphantly, "he recently received ten thousand dollars and some expensive jewelry from his grandmother's estate."

"That tracks with what Chris told us." Sam moved to join his partner at the board. "What about his friends?"

"Nothing unusual, all three are pretty deep in debt. They are all employed at the same electronics store – Chris in video, Matt, computers and Adam in music."

"Why would Marty be doing hooking up with those losers?" Kensi paced, her hands trailing on the table, "Would his handler know if he was working a new case?"

Callen turned away from the display. "I think we need to talk to Matt and Adam without Chris there to hog the conversation."

"Bring the three of them in." Sam nodded, "You and I take Matt and Adam and let Kensi see if she can pry anything more out of Chris?"

"Just what I was thinking." Callen agreed.

_**XxXxXx**_

Matt and Adam were both nervous but much more talkative without the presence of their friend.

Sam and Callen sat down in chairs across the table from them. Callen placed a photo of Deeks on the table in front of the pair.

"Do you know this guy?" G asked.

The both leaned forward and looked at the photo; Matt picked it up then set it back down carefully.

"I've never seen him before."

Matt shook his head, "Me neither," he said softly.

"He met your friend Robert at the Café Bel Flur this afternoon. Do you have any idea what they might have been meeting about?" asked Sam.

"Is he a wedding planner?" Matt asked.

"We don't know. We don't even have a name for him yet." G hedged.

"Did he kill Robert?" Adam asked grimly.

"We don't know." Sam answered truthfully, "This guy is in the hospital right now, he's in a coma."

"He looks like a street thug." Adam growled. "I bet he had something to do with it."

Callen leaned back in his chair, "There was a fight at Robert's house last week; do you know what it was about?"

"No idea, it was a couple of guys from the base – guys Robert knew." Adam replied.

"Do you know who they were?" Callen asked.

"We've never seen them before last week." said Matt. "They were new to the party. Rude bastards too, they didn't even bring any beer but they were sure happy to drink it up."

Sam leaned toward them, hands on the table, "Beth said they only thing she could tell that was missing from Robert's house is a jar of coins. Do you know anything about that?"

"He always tossed his winnings from the weekly poker games into a jar he kept on the dresser. When it got full he'd take it to the bank and turn it in for cash." Matt volunteered.

"Did he win a lot?"

"Not much more than anyone else. Robert was kind of a cautious bettor." Matt answered.

"Yeah, he didn't like to lose." Adam agreed.

"Did it make him angry to lose?" Sam asked.

"No, nothing like that. He was just real careful where he spent money, he liked to save."

"He wanted to marry Beth, move to a bigger house in a better neighborhood." Matt explained.

"How close was he to doing that?" asked Sam.

"I don't know, he never really told us everything." said Adam. "He was closer to Chris than to us."

"He was planning to get married next year in February." said Matt, with a glance at Adam. "He'd been looking at houses in Norwalk."

"So what." Adam shrugged, "I don't get what any of this has to do with Robert getting murdered in Beverly Hills or with us."

"We are trying to find out who killed Robert and why." Callen put his hands on the table and stood up. "Anything you can tell us about him, no matter how inconsequential it seems to you, may help us catch his killer."

"Inconsequential?" Adam looked up at Callen, "What's that?"

"Unimportant, trivial, petty." said Matt; he gave Callen an embarrassed smile, "LA Times crossword puzzles."

Callen smiled back, "Word-A-Day Calendar."

_**XxXxXx**_

Kensi didn't like Chris Santori one little bit and she made no effort to hide it.

"You've got quite the history Chris. Larceny, theft, dishonorable discharge from the Navy, five jobs in the last three years and up to your eyeballs in debt."

Kensi's eyes narrowed, "Yet you hang out with someone like Robert Lansing who has never had a black mark against him." She leaned across the table, her fists on its surface and glared at him. "How is it that he ends up murdered and you have no clue why?"

Chris sat sprawled in the chair; arms crossed on his chest and his chin out and up, returning her glare.

"You and Robert were friends since fifth grade." Kensi continued, not backing off even an inch. "Did you and him get into some kind of fight? He had money and you wanted it? Is that what happened? He didn't want to share?"

Chris shot forward, slapping the table just inches from her hands. "I would never kill Robert!" he snarled.

Kensi didn't flinch, "But you wanted what he had, didn't you?"

His shoulders moved as his breath heaved, his eyes were wild as he stared right into her eyes.

"Robert. was. my. FRIEND!" he bit off every word.

"He was a Navy Seal. He had a nice home, a beautiful fiancé and he had just inherited a lot of money." Kensi ticked off the items calmly. "You have nothing. Nothing but motive for killing your best friend."

"I was nowhere near Beverly Hills this afternoon, you can ask Adam and Matt." he maintained.

"Yeah, and they are such paragons of society that they would never lie for you, would they?"

"I was at home waiting for Robert!" he shouted.

"Maybe you sent someone to get the money from him." Kensi reasoned. She laid Marty's photo on the table. "Maybe you sent this guy after him."

Chris snatched up the picture and stared at it, hands shaking with rage. He raised his eyes to glower at her as he slowly crumpled photo into a hard ball with one hand.

"If this is the guy who killed Robert, he's a dead man."

"He's already dead." Kensi said, desperate to cover her mistake. She knew without a doubt from the tone of his voice and the set of his jaw that Chris Santori would go after Deeks if he thought that the detective was responsible for Robert's death. "He died a half hour ago."

Santori dropped back into the chair and put his hands over his eyes. "Fuck." he kicked blindly at the table "FUCK!"

Kensi pulled out the other chair and sat down, "Tell me why Robert would have been meeting this guy at Café Bel Flur."

"Christ, I swear I don't know!" he insisted. "Robert was shopping for rings and a house. He was going to get married, for all I know he was meeting a jeweler or a real estate agent today."

_**XxXxXx**_

Hetty saw the room number, started in and then stopped when she caught sight of the dark skinned woman sitting in the chair pulled close by the bed.

"I beg your pardon," said Hetty, "I must have the wrong room."

The woman looked up; when she saw the woman at the door, she grinned and beckoned her in, "I doubt that. You are looking for him, are you not?"

Hetty glanced at the figure in the bed, curious. He didn't really look much like the man she was searching for.

"They shaved him," Bertha laughed, "It makes him look like a teenager, doesn't it?"

Hetty stepped into the room and came to a stop beside the bed; it was indeed a very young looking Marty Deeks.

"How did you know I was looking for him?"

"I'm Bertha Chang, perhaps he's mentioned me to you?" she put down her knitting and got up, standing as tall as she could but still only just as tall as Hetty. "He calls me Mama Chang."

Hetty stood straighter, gaining perhaps half an inch of height, "I'm afraid not, but then he does not tell me about all of his friends."

Mama Chang smiled, "True, one does not always tell ones boss everything."

"How did you know…" Hetty's eyes narrowed.

"I didn't." she smiled, content with the small victory.

Hetty made a soft sound of displeasure, "Has there been any change?"

Mama Chang sighed, "No. Sometimes no change is a good thing though."

"Do they know when he will wake up?" Hetty eyed all the machines arranged around the bed.

"Most of his test results are still pending." Mama Chang settled back in the chair and took up her knitting again, the needles clicking. "His blood tests are negative for any kind of drug, I could have told them that," she grumbled. "They are still waiting on the results of the spinal tap and the Cat scan. The EEG is for some reason, puzzling to them, so they are running a continuous strip."

"What does that mean?" Hetty asked, turning back to the other woman.

"They said that his brain activity is abnormal for someone in a coma and they made some kind of fuss about the thickness of the skin on the top of his head being non-conductive, whatever that means."

"What kind of abnormal?" Hetty asked, turning back to try to figure out the lines on what had to be the EEG monitor. "It is bad?"

"They assure me it is not a bad thing, just apparently active in areas where it shouldn't be and inactive where it should be."

"That's not very informative."

"That's what _I_ said. I have a call out to someone who is willing to translate all this medical mumbo jumbo, she'll be here this evening." she laid down her knitting and reached for a small teapot on the side table. "Would you like some tea? One of the nurses downstairs brought a pot up. It needed some sugar but it's not bad."

Hetty pulled the other chair over by the bed and sat down. "Yes, thank you."

Mama Chang poured the steaming tea into a small bone china cup and passed it to Hetty.

Hetty accepted the cup, sniffing it with her eyes closed. "Mmm. Smells like chamomile with a hint of honey."

Mama Chang lifted her own cup and took a delicate sip. "With just a touch of orchid, not something I would have thought of."

Hetty gestured to the yarn piled in the other woman's lap, "What are you knitting, a scarf?"

She held up a corner of it, "I don't know. I like to keep my hands busy."

Hetty smiled, "_I knit so that I do not kill people_."

Mama Chang returned the smile, "You are an avid reader too?"

Hetty nodded.

"I assume you know him as Martin Deeks." Mama Chang began. "That's the name on his admission chart. I know him as Zack Donovan."

Hetty looked cautiously at the other woman over the rim of her cup and made a noncommittal sound.

"When my sons Alvin and Muhammad were shot protecting that fancy pants mobster that they worked for I didn't know what to do. Alvin wasn't too badly hurt but Muhammad was shot three times in the head.

The doctors said that Muhammad would be a vegetable; he'd never walk, talk or care for himself again. I sold my house, cashed in my retirement and brought in every specialist that I could. It was worth it, Muhammad isn't the man he was before but at least I have my boy back.

When Muhammad got out of the hospital we had nothing, we were living in tiny three room house down in Compton on Palmer Ave. I'd taken a part-time job teaching English to immigrants and Alvin was doing what he could to supplement our income but I didn't dare ask what and he never volunteered.

It was a Tuesday morning, the fifth of April. I was bone weary when I got up but when I couldn't find Muhammad anywhere in or around the house I panicked – he's like a big child and I was terrified that something bad had happened to him. I ran all over that neighborhood calling for him and do you know where I found him?" she smiled fondly, "He was down at Compton Creek catching frogs with some scrawny, wild-haired, white boy."

She reached over and patted Marty's hand.

"Three months later, we were living in an apartment building in Santa Monica. Two months after that, we had the club. I would do anything for him. He's become like my own child." she looked at Hetty, "You know what that is like, don't you." It was not a question; she was stating something she was certain of.

"I do." Hetty's eyes glistened.

"Those other three, Kensi, Sam and G are yours?"

"Yes." Hetty replied slowly.

Mama Chang tightened her lips into a thin line, "I expect you and them to do everything possible to catch whoever is responsible for this."

"We will do out best." Hetty assured her.

Mama Chang nodded, meeting Hetty's eyes, "I know that will be enough."

_**XxXxXx**_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

**That's it.**

**I quit!**

**No more. **

**I'm done. **

**It stops here.**

I'm going to stop rewriting this monster every time the writers use something I was going to use in this. I don't care if it looks like I'm drafting off their ideas.

I Am Going To Finish This !

Thanks so very much for all the encouragement, you are all the most excellent readers and reviewers EVER!

This chapter is a little short, I am having trouble weaving this together with the following ones and I wanted to give you something for your patience (and for being able to boot me in the butt). More will follow, hopefully in the next three days or so.

Part-time job 16 hours a week, fifty mile round trips with gas at $3.45 and going up is killing me tho.

**Chapter 5 Warning Signs**

_**XxXxXx**_

Kenzi slipped into the room, it was just after five p.m.

Mama C had smiled, given her a quick hug and packed up her knitting in a small carpet bag.

"I have some people to talk to this evening. Call me if there's any change?" the tiny woman asked.

"I will." Kensi promised.

She pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. Reaching through the bedrail, she covered his right hand with hers, his skin felt warm.

Gently she rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand, humming a lullaby she'd learned as a child.

She recalled from something that she'd read or perhaps heard on television that people in comas could hear and feel and that sometimes that the sound of friendly voices or touch could help them find their way back to consciousness.

"Come back to me partner." she whispered.

It was strange to be in the same room with Marty and it to be so still and quiet. Although it wasn't truly quiet – the machines made sounds, soft beeping, clicks and the rhythmic hissing of the ventilator that breathed for him.

His chest rose and fell in the unnaturally even respirations set by the machine that kept him alive.

She slumped back in the chair, watching him and finding herself matching him breath for breath. It felt strange, uncomfortable even, to breathe so deeply and evenly and she couldn't keep it up. Her eyes drifted closed.

"What are you doing, Kensi?" Marty asked.

Her eyes snapped open.

"Wake up sleepyhead, no time to lay around." he teased

She sat up, "You're awake!"

"Of course I am. I can't very well solve this case while I'm lying in bed, can I?" He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Where's my other shoe?" he asked.

"Same and G found it. It's probably in the closet. I'll get it." Kensi retrieved his loafers, pants and shirt.

Kensi turned her back while he got dressed, blushing when he laughed.

He wobbled a bit as he stood and she steadied him, a frown of concern tightened her lips.

"Are you sure you should be out of bed? What did the doctor say?"

Marty smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously, "I'm good."

She opened the door and he followed her out, not one of the nursing staff paid the slightest bit of attention to them.

"Don't you have to sign some papers to be released? Aren't they supposed to wheel you out to the car?" Kensi asked as the boarded the elevator.

"Boy, you are just full of questions aren't you?" He frowned at her, "Too bad you aren't asking the right ones."

"What are you talking about?" the doors opened on the lobby and she held out her hand, barring him from getting off the elevator. "What right questions?"

He stepped around her and out into the lobby. "It's important, Kensi. Think about it, you already know the answer."

The door started to close and she pushed it back. "I know what? Deeks!"

He started out the entrance doors, into the glaring sunshine that blinded her.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"You have to let me go." he stopped suddenly at the edge of the sunlight as though he'd run into an invisible wall. He turned back toward her; shoulders slumped, looking unhappy, "I don't want to stay here. Don't let them make me stay here Kensi, please. Just let me go."

"NO!" The elevator doors slid closed and she pounded on them, "Deeks!"

She awoke with a start. The room was dark, the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, she'd been asleep for hours. Deeks still lay in the bed, he hadn't woken - she'd dreamed it all.

Kensi felt a bubble of misery rise in her chest and she wiped the tears with heels of her hands. She pulled her legs up, wrapped her arms around her knees and wished with all her heart that he would wake up right now. She'd give anything to hear him say something annoying, something cocky, something all Marty Deeks.

A nurse stepped into the room, her soft soled shoes making little sound on the cold white tiles. She checked the machines that surrounded the bed and made notes in the chart she carried.

Seeing Kensi awake she smiled and asked, "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

Kensi shook her head and smiled ruefully, "Thank you, but no. I better get going," she checked her watch, "I have to be at work in three hours."

"Doctor Crandle will be making rounds at seven; you can check on Mr. Deeks around nine and see what the doctor has to say."

"Thanks, I'll do that." she felt the buzz of her phone, stepped into the hallway and answered it.

"Sam, what's up?"

"Kensi, before you leave the hospital, check Deeks for any injuries that he might have gotten from fighting with Lansing."

"Okay."

Sam hesitated, "Any news?"

"Nothing yet, he's still comatose but the nurse said Dr. Crandle will be in to check on him again at seven. We can call back after nine and get an update on his condition then."

"We can all meet back at the hospital after briefing this morning. Are you okay? You sound kind of strange."

She sniffed, "I slept in a hospital chair last night." the dream still lay heavy on her heart. "Not exactly conductive to a good night's sleep."

"You want to take a couple hours to crash in your own bed?" Sam asked, concern evident in his tone of voice. "I'm sure Hetty would understand."

"No, I'll be okay. Listen, I'm going to check Marty and then I'll be in. I'll see you in Ops in an hour."

"Okay."

Kensi went back in, passing the nurse with an apologetic smile, "I have to make a note of his injuries for our reports."

The nurse nodded and left.

Kensi picked up Marty's left hand, examining the knuckles, no cuts or bruises from throwing a punch. Nothing on the edges from a chopping blow but there was some developing bruising on the heel of his right hand.

She lifted the sheets at the bottom of the bed and checked the detective's feet. A large, fresh bruise decorated the heel of his right foot but his left was clean. There were no marks on his shins, just the typical nodule growths of a serious surfer.

Kensi tucked the sheet back under his feet, glanced at his face and gasped.

Marty's eyes were open.

"I'll be right back! I have to tell the nurse you're awake!" She was laughing as she flew out into the hall, rushing to the nurse's station.


	6. Chapter 6

_**:facepalm: okay so I had the dictionary set up wrong. As often as I write her name you'd think I'd catch that.**_

**Chapter 6: Time For Me To Fly**

_It's time for me to fly, time for me to soar, time for me to open up my heart and knock on Heaven's door_

"He's awake!" Kensi shouted to the nurse behind the desk.

The nurse grinned and made a shushing gesture.

Kensi clapped a hand over her mouth; "Sorry!" she said a little more quietly, "He just woke up!"

The nurse picked up the phone and paged Dr. Crandle. "The doctor should be here in a few minutes. Let's check on your friend."

Kensi could hardly contain her exuberance; she was practically dancing all the way back to the room. She bit her lip to hide the grin she knew Deeks would tease her about when he saw how happy she was.

"Mr. Deeks?" The nurse asked, a puzzled frown on her face as she checked the readout on the respirator.

Kensi stood on the other side of the bed. "Come on Deeks, quit clowning around and answer the nurse." her smile faded as her partner didn't respond.

He lay still, blinking slowly but his eyes never shifted to either of the women hovering over him.

"Deeks?" Kensi's voice wavered. She looked at the nurse, "What's wrong with him?"

"I'm sorry." the nurse pressed a button on one of the monitors and a strip of paper spooled out of it and into her hand. She shook her head, "This happens with some coma patients, their eyes open but they aren't regaining consciousness."

"You mean he's still in a coma?"

"Yes." she made some more adjustments to the rest of the equipment, "I'm sorry but we're going to have to prep him for some more tests. You'll have to come back later."

Kensi's shoulders slumped and she stepped back, glancing sadly at her partner. "Okay." her voice was barely audible.

_**XxXxXx**_

Kensi drove to the OSP building and parked outside, so numbed by the news that she was badly startled by a knock on the window of her car.

"Kensi?" G asked, concern narrowing his eyes. "You've been sitting out here for fifteen minutes just staring at the wall. What's wrong? Did something happen to Deeks?"

She pushed open her door, nudging the operative back with it.

"Is he dead?" Sam asked, reaching out to take her arm. "Kensi?"

She looked up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. Sam pulled her into a hug.

"I thought… he woke up," her voice stuttered, "His eyes were open…"

Callen's arm circled her back.

"He's still in a coma," she shuddered, burrowing closer into the comfort of her friends' embraces. "They want to do some more tests."

Hetty met them at the door.

"Miss Blye." she eyed Kensi, "I have an assignment for you."

"Hetty I don't want…"

"You will." Hetty interrupted, and her stern tone brooked no argument. "You are going to go home and take a nap, take a shower and put on fresh clothes. I do not want to see you back here for at _least_ four hours. Am I making myself clear?"

Kensi nodded, straightening. "Yes, Hetty."

Hetty turned to the other two agents, "Mr. Hanna, Mr. Callen. I would like for you to check Mr. Deeks' car and his apartment for anything that might give us some clue as to what he was working on."

Sam nodded to his partner. They knew that Hetty was completely aware of exactly what had happened at the hospital, probably more so than even Kensi.

_**XxXxXx**_

Deeks' car had been towed to the OSP lot from where he had left it parked near the Beverly Hills Playhouse. The little red four-door Chevrolet looked forlorn, parked alone in the far corner of the lot. Sam and G searched it thoroughly.

They found a penny under the driver's side floor mat, an empty coffee cup in the cup holder and Deeks' service pistol in the glove box with a pack of gum and a book of stamps.

His apartment yielded little more. It was uncluttered, almost spartan in its lack of personal touches.

The living room contained a slate-colored couch and matching chair, a battered coffee table, a matching pair of plain black floor lamps with white plastic shades and a medium sized entertainment center consisting of a flat screen TV and a DVD/CD player. Two DVDs from a local rental store and six CDs of various genres were in the cabinet above the television.

The kitchen was separated from the living room by a bar that held a toaster, blender and coffee pot. A microwave was on the counter behind the bar. One coffee cup, a plate and a butter knife were in the dish rack beside the sink.

The carpet in the short hallway still bore the marks of the vacuum cleaner. The door to the left opened onto the bathroom.

The medicine cabinet held toothpaste, a toothbrush, mouthwash, Band-Aids and antibiotic ointment. An electric beard and mustache trimmer was plugged in next to the nightlight.

The shower curtain was pulled closed and it matched the color of the towels that hung perfectly straight on the rack between the tub and sink.

The seat was up on the toilet.

"As tidy as this place is, I'd have sworn he had a woman staying here with him." G laughed.

"Well, you're missing the chaos." Sam said, opening the other door.

Deeks' bedroom looked nothing like the rest of the house.

The king sized, four-poster mahogany bed took up most of the space in the room. The sheets and comforter were balled at the foot of the bed, pillows scattered across the bed and one on the floor.

Clothes were hung on the mirror of the matching dresser; most of its drawers were half open and the items spilling out as though the wooden chest were vomiting out the articles.

A few ties were knotted and hung on the knobs of the open closet doors. The clothes inside were crowded, and hung in no particular order; winter coats hung next to sleeveless tee shirts. More clothing and shoes were strewn on the floor of the closet.

"Why is the rest of the house so Martha Stewart and this…" Sam waved at hand, "So… so…"

G snorted a laugh, "You know what they say about people who have messy bedrooms."

"I don't even want to think about that," Sam grumbled, "and thanks so much for the visual."

They completed their search of the apartment and found nothing that pointed to any case Deeks might have been working on.

They reported their lack of progress back to Hetty. She was entirely too quiet.

"Thank you, I know you two have done your best." she said, "Kensi is going to meet you at the hospital to meet with Dr. Crandle. He has some results back he'd like to discuss with you."

_**XxXxXx**_

Kensi was waiting upstairs when Callen and Sam arrived. She looked a little better now that she'd had a shower and a change of clothes.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Sam.

Kensi shook her head.

Callen wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the temple.

Dr. Crandle was waiting at the nurses' station. Kensi introduced the agents to him.

"I spoke with his adoptive mother, Mrs. Chang this morning." He gave a short laugh, "She brought an EEG tech from Keck at USC in to '_translate_' for her." He made air quotes.

Dr. Crandle walked back to an office, he offered them chairs and he sat on the corner of the desk, opening Deeks' chart on his lap. "Mrs. Chang is an intriguing woman." he said with a smile.

"That she is," Callen agreed. "Our boss said that you wanted to discuss some of Mr. Deeks test results with us."

Crandle nodded and cleared his throat, "The spinal tap came back clear; there was nothing to indicate any injury or illness in his spinal fluid that would account for the coma so we did another CAT scan this morning to check for any differences. Normally we wouldn't have picked it up on routine scan but since we are looking closely at everything we did find this."

He laid the chart down and walked over to the wall and turned on the light box that held films from the CAT scan.

"The only change we noticed from his initial scan was this." The doctor used his ink pen to indicate a small area on the scan. "There is some minor swelling here. This is indicative of a pressure injury."

"Son of a bitch!" Sam got up suddenly and started pacing, his fists clenched, he looked mad enough to kill someone.

"What? What is it Sam?" Callen asked, watching his partner.

"It's a restrain and disable hold every Seal learns. It's a quick and silent way to take out sentries."

"You learned how to put guys into comas?" Kensi asked.

"It's just supposed to knock them out for a few hours," Sam argued, "leave them with a raging headache when they wake up."

"It doesn't look like much of a hold, the elbow is right under the chin, and no pressure is put on the larynx so breathing isn't affected." Sam explained, "All the pressure is on the sides of the neck, over the carotid and jugular veins. No blood flow to the brain and the target quickly loses consciousness. That's if the hold is applied correctly."

Sam twisted his right fist into the palm of his left hand, eyes on the floor.

"If it's not done right, it takes longer to take the target down." he began to pace again, "It's instinct to fight against something like this but even after they lose consciousness sometime the target will continue to move, it's the body's automatic response in trying to breathe and it's often mistaken for a continuation of fighting back so more pressure is applied and that's when you see accidental death." His shoulders slumped and he turned away from them.

"But if that kind of hold is applied for too long it can trigger a seizure in the part of the brain that controls breathing, causing respiratory arrest and death." Dr. Crandle explained. "We believe that is what happened to Mr. Deeks. He suffered a mild seizure and that is why he slipped into a coma."

"If he's still in a coma why did he open his eyes this morning?" Kensi asked.

"Sometimes, while a patient is in a coma, they may exhibit behaviors which mimic conscious behaviors. For instance, they may turn their head toward a sound; this may not be a purposeful movement. It is best to view these behaviors realistically. The hard truth about coma is this; we do not know if or how well any particular patient will recover. Coma is rarely like it is portrayed in movies and on television, where one day the patient opens their eyes, smiles, and is discharged the next day, recovery from any type of brain injury takes time."

The doctor settled back on the edge of the desk, "We've been running a continuous strip since he came in. The fact that he opened his eyes this morning is more of a warning than an optimistic sign." He sighed, "The results that we've seen on his EEG seldom have a positive outcome. Nine out of ten patients that have these results die within two weeks."

"He's not those guys." Sam growled.

"I beg your pardon?" the doctor asked.

"Deeks, he's that tenth guy, the fighter who pulls through." Sam insisted.

Dr, Crandle promised to call them if there were any changes. The trio left his office and went down to check on Marty.

_**XxXxXx**_

They had removed the ventilator; breathing on his own, he now had an oxygen tube under his nose. The bed had been inclined to keep fluid from settling in his lungs and leading to pneumonia.

Deeks looked like he was awake; it was hard to not expect him to make some kind of wisecrack.

Kensi had taken one look at her partner, turned and hurried from the room.

Callen looked at Sam and shrugged his shoulders. "She'll be alright."

Sam stood near the bed with his head down, eyes closed and arms crossed on his chest. He looked exhausted.

"I can't figure this out, G." he said softly. "This case just doesn't make any sense. We're hitting one dead end after another."

Callen's voice held a trace of anger, "Literally and figuratively."

"I don't want Deeks to be one of those damn dead ends."

"He won't be." Callen asserted, "Deeks is the key. When he wakes up, he can solve it for us."

"When. If. What if it never happens? Are we just supposed to move on and make like none of this ever happened." he gestured angrily. "Damn kid."

"Me too." G grinned lopsidedly.

Sam tossed him a glare. "I am not."

Their partnership was so close that they could read the unspoken emotions.

"We all have gotten pretty attached to him Sam, and there's no way we can possibly let him go now. We'll follow him wherever we have to."

_**ZZZzzzzzzz**_

LostForeverInHisEyes

GLOMP! Do you have any idea how much I adore you? Not in the stalkerish way but I always perk up when I see your name in the reviews. Thank you so much for letting me know about the errors. My usual beta is getting the poop stomped out of her by Real Life right now so I'm pretty much on my own with my fics.

Penelope the Perky Penguin

I collect penguins; will you be my lucky charm for this fic?

Ryla

Thanks! But it may end up being pretty parallel at some points.

amblue36

You are my inspiration! Thanks for kicking me back into gear!

Motherofmytwo and grs4ever

Thank you for reading and reviewing! You are Awesome!

Anyone else noticing errors, please let me know ;)

Thank you for read and reviewing!


	7. Chapter 7

Chris Santori did not argue when they'd asked him to accompany them for more questioning.

He'd walked into the interrogation room as though it were a comfortable and familiar place.

Callen sat down at the table while Sam stood by the window with his arms crossed, glaring at the ex-seal.

Santori took the seat across the table from Callen and turned the chair around and sat, laying his arms across the back.

"What?" he asked, a trace of challenge in his voice.

Callen slid Deeks' picture across the table, "You've never seen this man before?"

Chris glanced at the photo, scowling, "I told the other agent; I've never seen him before except when you guys keep showing me his picture."

Sam stepped up, looming over him, "So you weren't the guy who came up from behind him and put a restrain and disable hold on him until he died?"

Callen leaned across the table, "Attacking a guy from behind kind of keeps you from seeing his face when you kill him."

"It's a coward's way." said Sam.

"And that isn't my way of doing things." Santori insisted.

"So you'd kill him face to face?" asked Callen.

"If he's the one who killed Robert, and he weren't already dead, hell yeah, I'd kill him face to face."

"That so?"

Chris got to his feet and stood toe to toe with Sam, though the agent was a few inches taller, Santori outweighed him by a few pounds.

"That's so."

"You have the training for this Santori; you have the ability to kill them both and your alibi is two guys who would lie for you."

"I didn't kill them!" Chris shouted.

Callen got up and came around the table, "Come on guys, let's not make this about us, it's about finding who killed Robert."

Sam and Santori each took a few steps back but continued to glare at each other.

"I found out who the guys were that got the party closed down." Chris said, his voice was still angry, "One of the guys was McNeil Everett and the other one was Dwight Salas."

"What makes you think that they had anything to do with Robert's death?" Sam rumbled, his stare drilling into Santori.

"I don't know if they had anything to do with it, but I'm sure as hell not having any luck with finding out who that guy is," he jabbed his index finger at the photo of Deeks, "or what he had to do with it!"

"Calm down, Santori," Callen paced back,

"Fuck you; I seem to be having more luck with getting information about his death than you do!"

Sam started toward Chris again but G intercepted him, nodding toward the door.

"We're not giving up on this investigation," Callen assured Chris, "We will find out who did this."

"Can I go now?"

"Yes, we'll drive you back." Callen offered.

"I'd rather walk."

"Seventeen miles?"

"I'm not going home yet." Chris growled.

"Stay out of our way on this case Santori." Sam threatened.

"Or what?" Santori's eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Sam. We should get back and check with Kensi."

Sam turned and led the way out of the interrogation room, slamming the door open, not caring. He and Callen followed Santori out the front door and stood in the sun watching the other man walk toward the street.

"You still think he's the one who killed Lansing and almost killed Deeks?" G asked his partner.

Sum huffed, still tense and angry. "He's got the skills for it."

"He's also got an alibi."

"Yeah, but it's not the best I've ever heard."

_**XxXxXx**_

"Mr. Hanna, Callen. I have a new case for you." Hetty laid the file on Sam's desk. "A Navy seaman named Eddie Tyler was murdered behind the cathedral on Main Street."

Callen tilted his head and squinted at her, "And why are you telling us this?"

She looked nonplussed, "Because it's your new case, Mr. Callen."

"I meant why are _you_ telling us about it and not Eric?" he persisted.

"Mr. Beal is busy on another project right now." she tapped the file "Now if you two would please get to work on this, the body is not getting any fresher and I am certain Miss Carlyle would like to get to it sometime today."

"Where are you going?" asked Callen.

"What makes you think that I am going anywhere?" Hetty asked with an innocent smile.

Callen's eyebrow went up and he cocked his head, "I'm a trained observer, you're wearing your power suit and scarf."

Hetty grinned, "I am meeting someone for tea this afternoon. I hope that we can exchange information."

"Tea, huh?" Sam laughed, "Exchange? I bet you come away with more than you give up."

"That's the plan, Mr. Hanna."

"Well good luck anyway and be careful. This town is full of rough and tough people."

"And I, am one of them." Hetty walked back to her office.

_**XxXxXx**_

Eddie Tyler was lying face up on the concrete, his head in the exact center of a sticky red halo.

"Interesting." said Callen, circling the body, "looks like he was shot here."

Tyler's arms were splayed out and one leg was bent. The expression frozen on his bearded face was that of angry surprise.

Sam looked around at the buildings, "Maybe someone heard the shot, maybe saw something."

Rose Carlyle, the coroner, tapped her foot impatiently, "Could we get on with this please, I'm still behind on my other cases."

Sam smiled at her and she tried hard not to return the smile but failed.

"How do you do that?" Callen teased his partner, "She can never stay mad at you."

"It's a secret," he smirked, "If I told you…"

"Yeah, yeah, you'd have to kill me."

Rose did a quick check on the body.

"Cause of death will most likely be gunshot wound to the head." she turned the head side to side. "Looks like a .38 or .45, rigor hasn't set completely so he was probably killed within the last hour. The shooter was at least five feet away. There are perimortem bruises on his ribs, both lower legs and some scratches on his right arm, all a day or two old. No defensive wounds."

Sam nodded, "Consistent with someone who had been in a fight."

"Robbery?" Callen wondered.

"Doubt it," Rose tossed a black leather wallet to Sam. "He still had this in his pocket.

Sam shook his head, "Cash and credit cards are still in the billfold." he thumbed through the paper money, "Seems like an unusual amount for a seaman to be carrying around. There must be five hundred dollars in here."

"LAPD is holding the guy who found the body." Rose used her ink pen to point to the men who stood over at the corner of the building.

"Thanks, Rose." Sam smiled at her.

Rose blushed a little, fluffed her hair and turned back to her examination of the body.

Officer Drake Reed introduced himself to the NCIS agents and then introduced Max Williamson.

Max was an architectural student visiting LA from Springfield, Missouri.

Max had been taking shots of the cathedral when he'd heard the gunshot.

"I was over here getting a shot of the cornices when I heard it." the young man explained. "At first I wasn't sure what it was, I thought maybe it was just a car backfiring. A few minutes later some guys ran that way." He pointed to the south. "When I came around back, I saw the dead guy."

"How'd you know he was dead? Did you walk over to him, touch him?" Sam asked.

"Heck no! I could see the blood on the ground and I watch TV. I know you're supposed to wait for the CSI people to catch the bad guy."

Callen grinned and cocked his head at Officer Reed who grinned back.

"I ain't no dumb hillbilly, you know." Williamson continued. "Here." he opened his camera and pulled out the SD card, "I took some shots of the crime scene but I need that back for my architecture class."

Max handed the card to Sam.

"Where can we return this to you?" Callen asked.

"I'm staying at the Capri down on Sunset until Friday, and then I have to head back home. I gave the officer here my statement but if you have any questions you can call me on my cell phone." he handed Callen a card, "I'd be happy to help you with your case any way I can."

"Thank you Max, we appreciate the offer." Callen told him. "We'll get that card back to you as soon as we can."

Sam and G headed back to the OSP to give Eric the SD card.

_**XxXxXx**_

They agreed to meet at Valentine's Bar, the place were Hetty had met with Deeks on two occasions. It was neutral ground for them.

Valentine's was a small place; dimly lit and quiet, more often than not, nearly empty. The booths and barstools were upholstered in soft red leather, the table tops, polished wood. The walls were dark wood and the floor, dark parquet squares.

Red glass jars held flickering candles. The front door was dark tinted glass coved by a steel filigree grate painted black with a heart in the center. Framed, autographed photographs of movie stars hung on the walls.

Fifteen minutes early, approaching from opposite directions, they met at the front door of the bar with polite nods.

After an awkward moment of '_after you_, _no, after you'_, Hetty led the way inside.

They took seats at the long table, sitting across from one another. The bartender brought a pot of tea and service for two, setting it on the table with a puzzled smile.

"Thank you, Vladilen," the women said at the same time.

"Ladies," he grinned and tipped an imaginary hat, then went back to the bar.

"So," Mama Chang said, "Apparently we are neither one, a stranger to this establishment."

"Apparently not," Hetty smiled.

"Scones." Mama Chang picked up one, took a nibble, then placed it on her saucer beside her cup," It's been quite some time since I have enjoyed one."

"Not quite the same as the ones you find in a London café," Hetty took one from the serving dish, "but they are not bad."

They sat for a few moments, not speaking, enjoying the silence and the tea.

"We have not been able to uncover much in our enquiries pertaining to this incident," Mama Chang began. "Only that we are not the only parties interested in what occurred."

"Indeed?" Hetty demurred, "Please, go on."

"There has been an angry young man asking questions, making threats." Mama Chang sipped at her tea, Hetty waited for her to continue.

The silence was heavy between them for several minutes.

Hetty sighed, "This angry young man, would he have been blond with blue eyes, perhaps named Chris?"

Mama Chang smiled, "That is correct. Chris Santori. You have knowledge of him?"

It was Hetty, this time, who remained silent for a few minutes.

"He was initially a suspect in our investigation." Hetty admitted reluctantly.

"And now?" Mama Chang prompted.

"We have determined that he is not involved." Hetty sipped more tea, "He has been doing some investigation of the incident himself, then?"

"Yes, although we do not know how much he has discovered. It is possible that he has sources that we do not have access to."

"Hmm." Hetty murmured, "Then it might be prudent if we were to ask him to share whatever information he may have uncovered."

"Prudent to share, yes." Mama Chang nodded. "Did they find anything in his car?"

Hetty pursed her lips for a moment then answered, "Very little, and none of it helpful."

"His apartment was the same way."

Hetty lifted an eyebrow, Mama Chang was not asking, she was answering.

"He gave me a key." she explained.

"I see. Did you have something to do with the state of it?" Hetty asked.

Mama Chang laughed, her eyes crinkling in delight, "No," she shook her head, "oh no, that curiousness is all his."

"Intriguing." Hetty settled back and sipped some more of her tea. "What have your medical sources had to say about his prognosis?"

Mama Chang set her cup down carefully, idly twisting the cup on its saucer. She didn't look up for several minutes.

"It's not been very good news from any of them." she shook her head. "The medical personnel have called it a vegetative state and don't seem to hold out much hope for his recovery from it. I was told that if he hadn't shown any improvement after twenty-four hours then it was not likely that he would ever regain consciousness."

Her voice cracked and she took a sip of tea to soothe her throat. There were tears in her eyes when she looked up and spoke again.

"They told me that 87% of the patients like Marty will die within two weeks or remain in a vigil coma for the rest of their lives."

Hetty reached across the table and laid her hand on Mama Chang's.

Mama Chang gave a brief smile, "The only ones who have had anything positive to say are a coma awareness group. They are not doctors but they have done quite a bit of research into what they call 'Coma Communication'.

They think that it's possible that Marty is awake but suffering from what is termed '_Locked In Syndrome_'. They have encouraged us to attempt to interact with Marty more, particularly when his eyes are open. We should talk to him and touch him whenever he appears to be awake.

Alvin and Muhammad have been taking turns staying with him. Alvin's been playing music and massaging his hands; Muhammad has been reading to him and singing sometimes. With his disability, I've explained to Muhammad that it's better if he doesn't touch Marty, so that he doesn't accidentally hurt him."

Hetty sat back and picked up her tea, "My team shall endeavor to engage Mr. Deeks also, then."

Mama Chang poured some more tea into her cup, "I've noticed a trend in my boy's heath since he began working with your team." she took a cautious sip. "Frankly, I find it quite disturbing."

Hetty looked over the rim of her cup, eyes narrowed, "His line of work is a dangerous sideline no matter where or with whom one is deployed."

"You cannot expect me to believe that he would have been shot in a staged hold-up if he were not a known associate of your young lady."

"It was not my team who brought him into contact with a knife-wielding mobster." Hetty countered.

They were silent again. The only sound for several minutes was the clink of china cups on saucers.

Mama Chang tilted her head. "I suppose that it is possible that he is simply a magnet for trouble."

"Possibly." Hetty agreed. "I believe that he is also drawn to situations where he can render assistance to people in trouble and that sometimes this involves a bit of risk to his health."

"Sometimes more than just a bit." Mama Chang smiled. "He cannot help it. He is, after all, a man of deep emotion."

"True." Hetty agreed, "He cares very much about other people."

Silence filled the space between them as they both thought about what a certain LAPD detective meant to them.

Vladilen brought another pot of tea over and took the empty one away with him.

"The imbibing of tea is such a civilized pastime, don't you agree?" asked Hetty.

"Indeed. Perhaps if more of the world were to take up drinking tea, it could be a more peaceful place."

"I agree." Hetty set her cup and saucer down with barely a rattle, "Mr. Deeks is becoming more and more a part of my team, I feel that with a little more time they will become so finely meshed that unfortunate incidences such as these will be impossible."

"I don't believe that I could persuade him to leave your team anyway." Mama Chang sighed, "He is a willful boy and does what he thinks is best."

Hetty smiled, "So I have noticed. But what are we to do?"

"We can only hope and pray that they have someone dependable to watch their backs."

"In that, I believe that we have no worries."

Mama Chang smiled, "I am certain that you are right." She took out her wallet and laid several bills on the table.

"I insist on paying my share." said Hetty.

Mama Chang nodded, "Then I shall allow you to pay the next time that we meet here for tea."

Hetty looked a little surprised, "The next time?"

"We should keep each other appraised of anything we know that could affect our '_children_', don't you think?" she winked, "And a pot of tea shared with a friend is always a delightful way to spend an afternoon."

"Indeed, it is."

Mama Chang led the way back onto the sunlit street. She pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses from her bag. "It's been a pleasure, Henrietta Estelle Lee Lang."

Hetty grinned, "Yes, Bertha Charisse Freeman Chang, it has."

"Until the next time."

Hetty nodded, "Good day."

They both departed back the way they had come, a little lighter in the heart, knowing that the other person was just as strong and trustworthy as themselves.

_**XxXxXx**_

Kensi had spent the majority of the past few hours going over all the reports from the case. There was nothing in the reports that gave her any insight into what her partner had been involved in that had led him to the bistro in Beverly Hills. Despite all the coffee she'd drank she'd ended up dozing off at her desk for more than two hours.

Hetty was gone and Sam and G had not returned yet so she decided to go to the hospital to check up on Deeks.

Kensi stopped outside Deeks' room; someone was sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed. She knocked gently on the door.

"Kensi!" Muhammad Chang's face lit up with a delighted smile, and he stood up. "Kensi, I read to Zack but I am stuck on this page. What is this word?" he pointed to the page.

She looked at the book; it had a drawing of an unhappy looking cat on one of the pages. "It's 'soggier'. What book are you reading to him?"

Muhammad closed the book, showing her the cover, "My new book, _Grumpy Cat_." He picked up the stack of books and fanned them out so she could see them, "I also read, _The_ _Kissing Hand, I Love You Sleepyhead, What Brothers Do Best_, and Zack's favorite," he handed her the battered paperback, "_City Mouse and Country Mouse_."

Kensi smiled, recalling Deeks comment about being a city mouse, "I didn't know he liked this book so much." she opened it; on the inside cover was a child's scrawl, 'Marty'.

"He givded me that book. Tomorrow I will bring different books." he said. "Did you bring books to read to him?"

Kensi shook her head, "I forgot. It's wonderful that you did."

"You can borrow my books," he pressed them into her hands, "Zack likes when I read to him, he will like you to read to him too I think."

"Thank you."

"Read this one when he closes his eyes." he pulled out the book with the mother and baby penguin on the cover, "_I Love You Sleepyhead_, is a goodnight book."

"He closes his eyes?"

"Yeah," Muhammad got excited again, "The doctor say is his sleep time and sometime maybe when he wakes up, he might talk to us."

"That's great news!" Kensi smiled, "It is good news, right?"

"Not to get too excited, Momma say, but is good news."

"Any other good news?"

"We should talk to Zack and we should touch him, except for me," he looked sad for a moment. "Alvin does acupressure, but his hand is broke like my head, so it is hard for him."

He gave her a hopeful smile, "You do acupressure?"

Kensi smiled back, "No, but I can give a pretty great massage."

"Then you should read and do massage, it will make Zack wake up." his phone beeped and he pulled it out of the case. "Alvin is here to take me home, I must go." He slipped the phone back in the carrier.

He pulled her close and for a moment she was afraid he might 'greet' her as he did Marty but he just gave her a hug that made her ribs creak and her feet dangled several inches off the floor.

"Goodbye Kensi." he planted a careless kiss on her cheek and lowered her back to the tile.

"Bye Muhammad."

He turned to the bed, "Goodbye Zack! I be back tomorrow."

When Muhammad was gone, Kensi settled into the chair he had left. The fake leather was still warm and supple from his body heat. She set the books on the table then leaned forward, elbows on her knees; palms pressed together with her fingertips at her mouth and stared at her partner.

Marty's eyes were open, he appeared to be staring at the clock on the wall at the foot of the bed or perhaps at the whiteboard that had today's date and the names of the various people taking care of him.

She leaned back in the chair, "So Muhammad has been reading to you and Alvin is trying to do acupressure. You're not just lying around here hoping to get in a free massage, are you?" she teased.

Marty didn't answer.

She wished he would turn his head and laugh at her, call her Fern and then she'd punch him.

She wiped at her eyes and reached for the stack of books. The one on top had a picture on the cover of a large yellow moon, sitting in front of it were a mother and baby raccoon. The mother was holding the baby's paw in hers.

"How about we read a book?"

She opened the book and began to read.

_Chester Raccoon stood at the edge of the forest and cried._

_ "I don't want to go to school," he told his mother. "I want to stay home with you. I want to play with my friends. And play with my toys. And read my books. And swing on my swing. Please may I stay home with you?"_

_ Mrs. Raccoon took Chester by the hand and nuzzled him on the ear._

_ "Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do," she told him gently. "Even if they seem strange and scary at first. But you will love school once you start."_

Kensi described the vibrant paintings that illustrated the book, the way the artists had drawn the all the other animals. She read several more pages, each time describing the illustrations.

"_I'll show you." Mrs. Raccoon took Chester's left hand and spread open his tiny fingers into a fan. Leaning forward, she kissed Chester right in the middle of his palm._

_ Chester felt his mother's kiss rush from his hand, up his arm, and into his heart._

Kensi's voice broke; she stopped reading for a moment and sniffled. "This is a really cute book."

She cleared her throat and began to read again.

_Mrs. Raccoon smiled, "Now," she told Chester, "whenever you feel lonely and need a little loving from home, just press your hand to your cheek and think, 'Mommy loves you. Mommy loves you.' and that very kiss will jump to your face and fill you with toasty warm thoughts."_

Kensi continued to read the book to her partner, losing herself in the illustrated forest populated with cute, young animals.

_That night, Chester stood in front of his school and looked thoughtful. Suddenly he turned to his mother and grinned._

_ "Give me your hand," he told her._

_ Chester took his mother's hand in his and unfolded her large, familiar fingers into a fan. Next, he leaned forward and kissed the center of her hand._

_ "Now you have a Kissing Hand, too." he told her. And with a gentle "Goodbye" and "I love you", Chester turned and danced away._

_ And as the hoot owl rang in the new school year, she pressed her left hand to her cheek and smiled._

_ The warmth of Chester's kiss filled her heart with special words._

_ "Chester loves you," it sang. "Chester loves you."_

Warm tears streaked her cheeks and she brushed them away with her fingers, "It's a great book, but a little sad too." she laid the book on top of the others.

"I hope Muhammad brought some funny ones because I'm not reading anything that's going to make me cry again, it's ruining my makeup." she laughed. "So, now that you've been read to, how about I give you that massage I'm sure you've been dying to have since we met."

Kensi scooted the chair closer and slid the bedrail down so that she could reach him easier.

She began with his hand, his fingers are long, perfect for playing the piano or guitar and his nails are short and clean. She is careful not to dislodge the oxygen monitor on this index finger. She rubbed his hand in slow circles with gentle pressure avoiding the prominent veins on the back of his hand. She can feel the bones in his forearm; his arms are muscular but still slender. She massaged her way up to his shoulder, forced to stop by the various sensor pads stuck to him.

"How about it, partner?" Kensi slipped her hand in his. "How about you just squeeze my hand right now?"

She watched his face carefully, hoping for some sign of awareness but he just blinked slowly.

A shadow fell across the bed and Kensi looked up. A nurse stood in the doorway carrying a tray of instruments.

"Sorry," she said, "But visiting hours are over and it's time for me to do his lab work."

"Five more minutes?" Kensi asked.

The nurse smiled, "Five minutes." then left.

Kensi took Deeks' left hand in hers, spread his fingers and placed a gentle, hesitant kiss on his palm.

"Whenever you need it," she curled his fingers and laid his hand on his chest, over his heart; "I'm here." she turned and hurried from the room.

_**XxXxXx**_

He could hear voices. People murmuring softly, no words that he could make out. He opened his eyes and saw nothing. It was darker than anything he'd ever experienced and his heart pounded in his chest painfully. Were his eyes even open at all?

He tried to move, lift his hands to his face but he could not. His scream was silent, echoing only his mind. Wherever he was, there was no light and he couldn't move or make a sound. He wanted to cry but even that was denied him.

Alone. He was completely alone, no one could hear him, and no one knew that he was trapped here.

He was buried alive!

Panic seized him and everything turned cold, he felt like he was suffocating. He didn't know how long the fear held him, it seemed like forever, then he forced himself to stop and think logically.

He was not dead.

_Fear kills, remember that._ He told himself. _I just have to work it out, I'm only afraid because I don't know what's happened. If I work that out I can go from there_.

_Listen!_ He shouted to himself, _you can figure out where you are. Swallow the fear._

Control the situation by learning as much about his surrounding as possible, that's what Sam would do. Sam wouldn't be afraid, trapped in the darkness, buried in it and unable to move.

So what if he couldn't see, he still had other senses. If he concentrated he could hear sounds. The soft whisper of voices, footsteps, beeping and clicking sounds that somehow seemed familiar.

_Concentrate! What are you hearing? _Deeks scolded himself.

The beeping and clicking reminded him of machines. Something with black screens and colored lines on them.

_**HOSPITAL!**_

He was in a hospital. Relief flooded him; he was not buried in some anonymous grave somewhere in the desert. He was safe, in a place where he would be taken care of, where he could recover from whatever had happened to him.

Footsteps moving toward him. Voices sounding closer.

"Thirty-two year old white male brought in two days ago after collapsing at an outdoor venue. No evident trauma. He was unresponsive to stimuli and shortly after admission suffered respiratory failure. What steps would you have taken had you been on call? Mr. Petersen?"

"I would look for evidence of head trauma or metabolic encephalopathy."

"And when that came back negative, Ms. Pierce what would you have done?"

"I would have checked brainstem function by assessing__corneal reflexes, gag and cough reflexes."

"Very good, Ms. Pierce. Now, Ms. Solomon what lab tests would you have ordered?"

"A complete chemistry profile, complete blood count, coagulation panel, arterial blood gas, tox screen and cortisol level."

"Mr. Petersen, what other lab test would you order?"

"Uumm, a CAT scan?"

"What about you, Ms. Pierce?"

"A lumbar puncture."

"Anything else?"

"Electroencephalography"

"And why would we do an EEG?"

"To rule out seizures."

"And what is a coma?"

"Coma is a state of unarousable unresponsiveness in which the patient has no evidence of self or environmental awareness."

"Very good, let's move on to our next patient."

The voices and footsteps faded away.

_I'm not in a coma!_ He wanted to shout. _I'm awake and I can hear you!_

Panic crept back in for a moment, and then he recalled something he'd heard about from some of the older officers at one of the cop bars. Locked in. That's what they had said had happened to that police officer from Rampart that had been shot a couple of years ago. She'd had a stroke and slipped into a coma that had turned into this. Being able to hear and no one knowing that she was awake. But she had eventually regained enough movement that the doctors had discovered that she could hear them. He had no idea what had happened to her after that through.

He could beat this, he would. All he had to do was fight it. Concentrate on making them aware that he was here.

_Think! Remember!_ Marty told himself, _that will help me wake up if I can just remember what happened._

The last thing I remember… getting up, grabbing the last bagel, it had been a little crunchy. Washing it down with the last of the orange juice straight from the carton. What happened after that?

Car. He'd gone somewhere in the car. He remembered fancy cars and … nothing after that. Had he been in an auto accident?

No.

He remembered parking, walking away from the car and looking back at it. Walking somewhere to meet someone. Who was he meeting?

He recalled flashes, fragments, drinking something sweet, walking away from a table surrounded by people at tables somewhere outside. Someone had shoved him and he'd reached for something and lost it. What had he lost? Who had shoved him and why? Was that Kensi that had called to him?

He suddenly felt very tired.

_Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll wake up and this will all be just a nightmare I've had._ He told himself as he fell asleep.


	8. Locked In

Sleep seemed to overtake him suddenly, without the usual sense of being tired. When he awoke, he had no idea of what day it was or even what time.

He figured that the times when no one but the staff seemed to be around had to be late evenings, past visiting hours. It was during these periods of loneliness that despair crushed him and he wanted to cry.

During what he was certain were the daylight hours due to the increase in sounds such as footsteps and voices he felt more positive. Well, most of the time anyway, being able to hear what was going on around him but not able to do anything was starting to drive him crazy.

He talked to himself. A lot. This could be good, but it could also be bad. Didn't they say you were crazy if you talked to yourself?

This was an argument with himself he'd rather not dwell on.

To keep himself occupied and to hopefully sharpen his mind, he began to focus more on what he heard when people came into the room.

The doctors and nurses footsteps all sounded pretty much the same, he gave up on figuring them out and besides, he had no idea what they looked like or what their names were.

His friends, on the other had, were most distinctive.

This had to be Alvin. The footsteps were precise, not loud, and not soft - a lot like the voice that he heard.

"Hello, Zach."

There was the click of something being set on the table and then the sound of mellow music.

"Today, I brought something you've not heard in a while, I think."

The throaty voice came through the speakers like honey.

_Billie Holiday_ Marty thought just as Alvin voiced the name.

"And I brought some Jonny Lang, I know he's not one of your favorites but I think if you'd give him a chance you'll be surprised."

His eyes couldn't see Alvin so he imagined how he must look today.

Alvin would be towering over the bed, standing straight, all eight feet two inches of him. This month, Alvin was favoring a close trimmed haircut instead of his usual shaved head. He liked to dress well and owned a closet full of designer suits, from a one of a kind hand tailored Leonard Logsdail suit to Ravazzolo, Brioni, Kiton, Canali and Bottega Veneta. He would never be caught dead in something as common as Armani or Ralph Lauren. He was probably wearing one of the dark suits with a white shirt and a bright colored silk tie that matched the kerchief in his suit pocket.

He could picture Alvin standing by the bed, his right hand tucked in a pocket, hiding the scars that reminded him of the bad choice he'd made when he agreed to be a bodyguard for the notorious drug dealer Damon Sharpe.

And his twin brother Muhammad – he'd seen pictures of the twins before they'd been shot up protecting their boss. They looked like bookends, exact replicas of one another. Tall, light brown skin and dark brown almond shaped eyes.

They still were, for the most part, though many people agreed that Muhammad appeared a little younger in some way they couldn't quite put a finger on.

Muhammad kept his head shaved; the bullet scars on his scalp had faded over time but were still visible. The younger of the twins by four minutes, Muhammad had taken the brunt of the gunfire – two slugs had creased his skull, the third penetrating his brain and leaving the once brilliant mathematician with the mind of a child.

Perhaps it was this child-like persona that made him appear to be younger, he certainly smiled and laughed more than Alvin.

Where Alvin was always dressed to the nines, Muhammad preferred the more casual look of jeans and tees. Not to say that he was sloppy, his clothes were always clean and ironed. The brothers were always immaculate.

Muhammad had been coming to visit too. Three times he'd been in and read stories to Marty. The detective was please to note that Muhammad's reading skills had increased, the books had begun with first grade level stories and progressed to more of a fifth grade level. Marty tried to smile when Muhammad had read City Mouse Country Mouse to him; it was one of their favorites.

The chair was pulled close.

"I'm going to do some more acupressure on your hands today." Alvin told him.

Marty wished he could feel it, even the temporary pain that sometimes came with the treatment would be a welcome sensation right now.

He tried to concentrate on his hands, tried to feel the pressure of Alvin's fingers but he felt nothing.

The song ended and guitar and a soft drum sounded. _Jonny_, he thought, the kid was okay but he might be better after he got older, lost that high voice to the gravel of real blues, whiskey and cigarettes.

Now his cover of the Rolling Stones _Paint It Black_ was pretty good, he admitted. Jonny's voice on this one was huskier, almost harsh. Maybe he'd shared some of Keith Richard's stash before the recording.

"There," Alvin said, "Now you can still play the piano. Do you play the piano?" he asked with a laugh, "I know you play guitar. You should come by the Blue Room some Tuesday, see old Ray, he can play some mean blues."

The chair scraped back.

"I have to go now but I will be back tomorrow. Maybe with some DJ Caffeine or some Hot Butter." he teased, knowing that his friend didn't care for either of the artists. "If you don't tell me what to bring, then I'll just pick up something from the booth."

Inwardly, Marty groaned, the DJ at the club had some pretty horrible stuff stashed in the booth, and Alvin would love to torture him with it.

"Mother will be by later, she has been meeting with some… people." he said with evident distaste.

Marty could picture Alvin's handsome face wrinkling in displeasure; obviously whomever Bertha was meeting with was not someone Alvin approved of.

The twins' mother, Bertha Chang is a tiny woman, standing not even five feet tall in her thick soled shoes. Her black hair is threaded with silver and she wears it straight and pinned on top of her head, held in place by carved ivory pins that were a wedding gift from her late husband, a Chinese former Olympic basketball player named Yoshiko Chang. Her skin is dark chocolate colored like her eyes.

Marty thought about the first time he'd ever spoken directly to any of the Changs, it had been to Muhammad. The man had been engrossed with watching a frog jumping through the weeds a block from his house.

Worried that Muhammad might come to some harm while left alone, the detective had struck up a conversation with the friendly giant. Marty told Muhammad all he knew about frogs, which thanks to his childhood friend Jess was quite a lot. Muhammad had absorbed the information with quiet intensity and later repeated it back to his mother and brother.

Of course the later had involved some yelling and threats when Mama Chang had discovered her youngest son missing from their home and she'd panicked just like any mother would. When Mama Chang had finally found them down on Compton Creek with the box of frogs she hadn't known quite what to think of a scrawny, scruffy white boy looking after her son and teaching him how to catch frogs in the reeds.

Tiny and fragile-looking as she was, Marty had still felt the fear that she would beat him senseless if he made the mistake of doing anything to harm her son.

He'd charmed her with his smile and soft voice and she'd taken them back to the crumbling house, fixing sandwiches and iced tea.

That had been the beginning of a curious friendship.

After that, Marty came by every day to look after Muhammad while Alvin and Bertha were at work. The unlikely pair became a frequent sight to the residents of Compton.

Some at first didn't take to kindly to a white man looking after an obviously mentally handicapped black, but Muhammad set them straight. He may have lost much of his mental power, but he still had the strength and that settled things quickly.

When the state of California had declared Damon Sharpe legally dead and started selling off the former drug kingpin's estate Marty had put a bid in Bertha Chang's name on the dance club where the twins had been bouncers for a while before moving up to the dubious distinction of Sharpe's bodyguards.

Money that had at one time been hidden in Damon Sharpe's house was used to pay for the purchase of the club. Blood money that could be cleansed somewhat by letting a shattered family start life over again.

Mama Chang had been pretty surprised to find herself the owner of a dance club that was frequented by the wealthy and the famous, but she didn't take long to get the hang of being a businesswoman.

"Goodbye Zack, I will be by again tomorrow." said Alvin.

The precise footsteps faded away.

Time passed and he did not know if it had been hours or simply minutes. People came and went from the room never speaking, at least not to him.

Unable to use any of his other senses, when Marty listened to the voices of his visiting friends he tried to picture what they looked like. How they were dressed, the gestures they made when they spoke and even how they sat in the chair they pulled close to the side of the bed.

Kensi was always the first to arrive. It had to be morning because sometimes he could hear the early show turned low on the television. Marty imagined her sitting in the chair with a cup of coffee, her eyes bright with her usual morning energy.

Marty decided this morning that Kensi was wearing a pink shirt with a large purple orchid printed on it. He had never seen her wear any such shirt but this was, after all, his vision so he could dress her anyway he wanted to. She probably had on a pair of her _'too loose'_ size one faded jeans and, from the sound of her footsteps, a pair of short heeled boots.

He imagined how her hair must look this morning, no doubt pulled back in the ponytail she often wore, loose ringlets of the mahogany and russet curling around her face and along her long and graceful neck. He wondered how her skin seemed to stay such a creamy pale color, California sun was not the kindest to soft skin.

She told him about how traffic was, the weather, the smog report and the funny things David Letterman had said on his show the night before. As she told him about the guy at the gym trying to convince her to go with him for a cup of coffee, Marty could picture her ducking her head, long eyelashes on her sharp cheekbones and that wicked smile on her wide mouth. He always thought that the birthmark that made her right eye appear darker than her left gave her an air of mystery and danger.

She was in many ways the most beautiful woman he'd ever met and someday if he ever got out of this he planned to tell her just that.

He listened more to her tone of voice than to the things she said. She sounded sad but trying to be upbeat. Kensi's visits always ended the same way.

"I'm here for you, Marty, please, please come back to me."

G would wander in sometime after Kensi left, his soft shoes making very little sound. Callen never spoke until he'd settled into the chair and Marty got the sense that G would stare at him for a while before he spoke.

He too, would talk about the weather and traffic. No recap of television shows fortunately because G did not own a TV. Then he'd lapse into silence and Marty was never even certain that the man was even still there until he would hear him say goodbye.

Callen was a little harder for Marty to picture, he was not a man that encouraged people to stare at him but Marty had a good memory for what the agent looked like. No telling how he was dressed of course, because G didn't seem to favor any particular style the way his partner Sam did.

Callen was a distinctive looking man though, his attached earlobes blended straight into his strong jaw line that was covered in a permanent five o'clock shadow. G's hair was brown, close cut and he had a sharp widow's peak. His blue eyes were set deep under dark brows and he always seemed to be looking through you, seeing everything that you tried to hide.

It was a bit unnerving, really.

Sam's footsteps are easy to recognize. He always strides into the room and stands beside the bed while he talks. He never as far as Marty can tell, sits in the chair.

Sam gives him updates of their current cases, and apologized for the lack of progress on finding out what had happened to Marty. Then Sam encourages him to fight against the coma, to concentrate on his senses, to try to move.

When the monitor that measures his heart rate begins to beep just a little faster Sam encourages him some more.

"I know you're in there. I know that you can hear me." Sam said.

Marty could imagine Sam's large dark hands clamped around the bed rail as he spoke to him.

"That's it Deeks, you can do it, I know you can." His voice is low but commanding, like a drill sergeant for yoga. "Start with something simple like moving your toes or your fingers then we'll get you back in the cage for a rematch with me." he teased.

Sam has a broad, straight nose and a wide mouth that curls at the corners into a mischievous smile, particularly when he and his partner Callen are up to something - which is pretty often.

Sam's head is shaved, his chin pointed and his large complex ears set close to the sides of his head. His eyes are clear, dark brown almost always, smiling. The dark tattoo on his right arm from his shoulder to just above his wrist is almost always covered by the long sleeved, snug fitting colorful shirts he likes to wear.

"Set a goal for yourself, it shouldn't been a huge one either. You can't climb Mt. Everest in one go, you stop at camps along the way." Sam told him. "Arrive at that first camp, congratulate yourself and then move on up."

Sam's visits always end with a positive note.

"I know you're going to beat this. You're strong and you _will_ come back." he said before he leaves.

Hetty's visits always startle him. She makes no sound at all when she enters, he'd just suddenly hear her beside him, speaking. She would tell him about the places she'd visited, hint at things she'd done while there and like Sam, encourage him to wake up.

Marty pictured her in one of her power suits with a scarf of some complicated motif around her neck. Her mouth is small, brown hair straight and cut to the bottom of her ears, deep set dark eyes that miss nothing. She is so ordinary and yet extraordinary, a puzzle wrapped in an enigma.

The sheets would rustle, and after a few times of hearing this, he realized that she must be picking up his hands, her voice would drop to a quiet tone and he couldn't make out the words but from the cadence he was certain that she was praying over him.

Mama Chang was the reason he'd gotten along so well with Hetty when they had first met.

It was all in knowing the mindset of someone who had to deal with a world full of people who were bigger and stronger than themselves and he'd learned that at an early age.

"Never underestimate the little guy," Sam had once said, "He's got everything to prove and nothing to lose."

That was a fact.


	9. Chapter 9

It might have been weeks or months, it could have been just a couple of days or just hours, he had no way to keep track of time.

The others continued to visit him, reading, playing music or just talking to him and he found that he was falling asleep despite the strong desire to stay awake and hear their voices.

Strange dreams plagued him.

He dreamed that Sam and Callen had come into his room and stood around the bed.

Callen was dressed like Robin from the Batman movies and he jumped up and perched on the edge of the bedside table and stared at Marty.

Sam was holding a bible in one hand and a white frosted cake in the other, a parrot perched on his shoulder while he preached about sin, the best recipe for scrambled eggs and being swallowed whole by a shark.

When Marty tried to tell him that Jonah had been swallowed by a whale not a shark, Sam's white chef's uniform darkened into a blue SWAT coverall.

"Just do what I tell you!" Sam had shouted and Marty had woken to darkness and silence.

Another dream was much more pleasant but just as disturbing. It featured Kensi and Hetty.

Kensi stood at the foot of the bed, pacing back and forth like a model on the catwalk. She never looked at him or spoke to him but after a few passes she would stop and Hetty would appear beside her and wave a wand, speaking in a high pitched, exceedingly chipper voice and the clothing Kensi was wearing would change into something else and she would do another pass on the catwalk.

He didn't recall dreaming about the Changs except for Mama who looked much taller and shook her head at him as though she were disappointed about something.

_**XxXxXx**_

Pain tore him from sleep. Agonizing hurt jolted through him like an electric shock, shredding every nerve and he screamed his throat raw in silence. White lightning streaked across his vision and his breath shuddered in lead filled gasps.

"Where is it?" the words echoed his ears, "Where! Is! It!"

The monitors peeped stridently and light flashed in his vision. Suddenly his hands moved to the pain in the center of his chest and he sucked in a startled gasp that brought with it the scent of sweat and something spicy.

"You know! Tell me!"

He tried to push away that hands that drove the pain deeper but he was too weak and all he could do was feel the thick fingers and the heavy watch on one wrist.

The hands were gone and the pain subsided. Light blinded him and he blinked. Shapes moved in front of his eyes and he reached for them.

"He's awake." Someone said, "Call Dr. Crandle."

Gradually the light dimmed and the shapes resolved into the forms of nurses moving around the bed.

"Just relax now." The older, heavy-set nurse told him, "You've been in a coma for almost a month but you're going to be all right."

"Someone was here." he whispered, his voice low from disuse.

"It was a nightmare, that's all. You just had a bad dream." the nurse insisted, "Visiting hours haven't even started yet and we would have seen someone if they'd come in or left your room."

"I did not dream it!" Marty's voice was harsh and ragged, "Someone was in here trying to kill me!"

He pushed himself up in the bed and swung his legs over, panting with the exertion.

"You're not going anywhere," the nurse warned, "You just lay back and relax."

"I have to get out of here," he insisted, trying to bully her into stepping back.

The nurse stood firm and he wasn't able to do more than sit on the edge of the bed.

The younger, prettier nurse on the other side of the bed tried to coax him into lying back down but Marty refused, shaking off the hand she laid on his arm.

"I want out of here. NOW." he insisted. His strength was coming back, mostly aided by adrenalin.

"Get this stuff outta me!" Deeks growled, his voice returning. He tugged at the leads taped to his chest and head, "and off me, I am **not** staying where people are trying to kill me!"

"Sir, please calm down," she moved to replace the leads he'd managed to remove and Deeks slapped at her hands and glared. "No one is going to hurt you."

"Take this stuff _off_ and I _will_ calm down!" he insisted.

The nurse glanced at the older nurse who had moved to the doorway to summon help in getting the recalcitrant patient back into bed.

The other nurse shrugged, there was no one in sight she could summon and she was not going to shout and disturb the other patients anymore than Marty already was with his loud protests.

"Fine," she said, "please hold still,"

Deeks threw back the sheet, "This thing first, I can get the rest myself."

_**XxXxXx**_

Kensi's phone rang just as she unlocking her car to head to work.

Hetty's voice was calm, "Ms. Blye, would you please go to the hospital immediately, your partner is attempting to leave against medical advice."

Kensi stood open mouthed for a moment, "My partner? Deeks is awake and trying to leave?"

"That's what I said." Hetty sighed, "Would you please endeavor to talk some sense into Mr. Deeks?"

A grin spread across Kensi's face, "Right away!"

_**XxXxXx**_

"Where the hell is my other shoe?" Deeks shouted.

"In evidence."

"Kensi!" Deeks looked relieved to see her, "Kensi, you have to get me out of here!"

"In one shoe?"

"I'll damn well go barefoot if I have to." he pulled the shoe off and tossed it back in the closet. "I just want out of here before someone else tries to kill me."

She crossed her arms, "The way you're behaving I'm not surprised."

"**I. Am. Not. Hallucinating**." he enunciated. "**I did not dream it**. Someone tried to suffocate me."

"Who?"

"I don't know, I didn't see them, but I felt it."

She rolled her eyes at him, "That sounds _so_ reasonable."

"I know what happened to me!"

"Deeks, come on," she tried to get him to sit back down on the bed but he tried to push her back.

He was shaking and too weak to resist her much. She helped him to sit down in the chair.

"You've been through a lot; you need to stay here so they can take care of you."

"Are you crazy?" He looked at her, eyes wide. "They're trying to take care of me all right, permanently!"

He got back up and made it half way to the door before she caught his arm.

"Deeks…"

He looked scared and she felt her resolve to force him back in the bed crumble.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked softly.

He trembled, "I… I don't know. I… didn't think that far ahead, I just want out of here."

"Home?"

He shook his head.

"My place?"

"Safe house?" he asked uncertainly.

He'd refused the offer of her place, to Kensi, that proved how seriously frightened he was.

"I can take you to one." she turned to the nurse, "Is there some paperwork he needs to sign?"

While Deeks was signing paperwork and listening to the doctor warn him about the dangers of leaving, Kensi made some calls.

Hetty gave her the address of a safe house that was currently unoccupied and Mama Chang insisted on sending a doctor to keep an eye on Marty.

Sam said that he and Callen would stop by later with changes of clothes for them and some groceries.

Kensi went downstairs and drove her car up to the entrance. Marty was waiting impatiently inside, sitting in a wheelchair his bare feet now covered with a pair of paper slippers. The slippers made a soft hissing sound as he was helped to walk the few steps to the car.

"Are you …"

"Yes I'm sure! I am not staying here," Marty interrupted her, "I'll walk out if you won't take me."

Kensi opened the door with a huff.

"Whatever." he grumbled, dropping into the seat.

"Would you at least let a doctor check you over?"

Deeks shook his head, "No, I don't trust them."

Kensi got into the car and started it up. "What if it was someone Mama Chang sent?"

He thought about it for moment. "Okay, if it's someone she trusts then, I'll do it."

Kensi smiled, "Good 'cause she's already asked a friend of hers to come over. She said it's the same doctor who took care of Muhammad."

"Dr. Vin?" he looked hopeful.

"She said his name is Dr. Lassiter."

Deeks smiled, "Dr. Vin."

_**XxXxXx**_

The garage door at the safe house was open and Kensi pulled in. The door closed quietly behind them.

Deeks leaned heavily on her as she helped him to walk into the house. He was shaking and sweating when she lowered him into a chair in the living room.

The refrigerator was empty so she got him a glass of water from the tap. He drank it eagerly.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, breathing raggedly.

"Stop staring at me." he grumbled.

Kensi twitched and looked away, "Sorry."

The doorbell rang and Kensi got up to answer it.

Marty's eyes opened, "Check to see who it is before you open the door."

Kensi rolled her eyes but did as he asked. Through the peephole she could see an older gentleman standing on the porch, he held up a black doctor's satchel.

"Mama Chang sent me, I'm Dr. Lassiter." he said.

Kensi opened the door and stepped back so he could enter.

Doctor Vincent Lassiter is tall, slender and tanned. His narrow, strong-jawed face is creased with laugh lines. His blue eyes are clear and deep set. He grinned as he held out his large bony hand to Kensi.

"It's nice to meet you, young lady." he said with a soft southern drawl. "Now where's that jackrascal at?"

Marty laughed, "You getting old and losing your sight as well as your hair?" he teased.

Dr. Vin ran a hand through his thick, shaggy white hair and laughed, "Shore am." he crouched beside Marty's chair, one hand one the detective's wrist, checking his pulse. "Now then, how about you tell me how it is that you ended up here."

"I don't really remember." Marty said, glancing at the black leather satchel the doctor set down beside him. "I remember getting up that morning, eating breakfast and driving somewhere and that's it."

The doctor tugged the satchel out of Marty's eyesight, "That so?" He took a penlight out of his pocket and flashed it across the detective's eyes.

"Well, your eyes are workin'."

He tucked the penlight back in his pocket. He opened the case and took out a stethoscope.

"Deep breaths."

He listened to Marty's chest; front and back and then put the disk of the stethoscope on Marty's temple and rapped gently on his forehead with his knuckles.

"That's a mighty fine echo, there." the doctor said, smiling.

Marty laughed.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Any pain?"

Marty grinned crookedly, "Just you."

Vin grinned back, "Nausea, dizziness?"

"No and no. I feel a little tired," Marty admitted, "but that's all."

"Well that's to be expected; you had quite the time of it." He took a white plastic necklace out of the bag and draped it around Marty's neck. "This here is a monitor; it'll keep track of your breathing. Try and keep it under your shirt and on your chest." He turned it over and showed him a small black button on the flat back. "When you're showerin', take it off but press this button first, okay? I want you to keep this on when you're sleepin', understand me?"

The small disk was surprisingly heavy as it lay against his skin.

Marty nodded, "I will."

He took Marty's hands in his. "I want you to squeeze my hands as hard as you can."

The detective did as he was told, and the doctor nodded.

"Not bad for someone that's been sleepin' for the last three weeks. But yore still not ready for arm wrestlin'. Now," Vin dug in the satchel, "Red or green?"

Marty put a finger on his chin, thinking. "Green."

Vin pulled out a green cellophane wrapped sucker and handed it to Marty, he passed the red one to Kensi who took it with a surprised smile.

"Eat whatever you can catch, no alcohol, exercise as tolerated and I'll check back on you tomorrow morning." he told Marty, patting him on the knee.

"T'anks Docca Vin." Marty mumbled around the sucker in his mouth.

Kensi walked to the front door with the doctor.

"Try to get him to take a walk around the yard a couple times a day, get him to eat, but start with somethin' simple like soup or jello. He'll most likely doze off at unexpected moments but don't worry about it and tell him not to worry either. He'll probably wake up disoriented and a little scared so reassure him he ain't been asleep that long."

He handed her a card, "He's my cell number, call me if he gets worse or won't wake up or if you just need to talk. Call 911 if there's an emergency and then dial his Mama." he grinned and tipped an imaginary hat. "See you tomorrow, darlin'."

Kensi walked back to the living room shaking her head.

"He…"

"Yeah, I know." Marty's tongue and lips were green as he took the sucker out of his mouth, "Sam Elliot would look exactly like him if he shaved off his mustache."

Kensi laughed. "It's uncanny, he even sounds like him!"

"Doctor Vin says he's much better looking than Sam Elliot though."

There was a sharp rap at the kitchen door, Kensi leaned around and saw Sam and Callen on the pack porch, and she waved them in.

"Yo, Cinderella!" Sam called as he came in and set the grocery bags he was carrying on the bar.

Callen walked into the living room smirking and holding an overnight case, "We brought you _shoes_." he teased. "As in _pairs_ of shoes." he dug a pair of fuzzy pink slippers out of the bag.

"Whoops! Those are Kensi's." He held them up and squinted at the soles, "At least I think these are Kensi's." G waggled them at her and she snatched them out of his hands.

"Yeah," he dug out a pair of flip flops, "these are more your speed."

Kensi grabbed them and the case, "Not in his condition, they aren't." she dug in the bag, "What else did you bring?"

Sam was stacking plastic cups of Jello in the refrigerator, "There's a pair of brown loafers in there somewhere." he said.

Kensi pulled them out and handed them to Marty. "These are five hundred dollar Testorni shoes, where did you get them?" she asked quietly.

Marty flushed and didn't look up, "They were a gift from a friend."

"She must have been a good friend."

"He was."

Kensi's smile slipped.

"Not like that." Deeks said, flustered. "I got him out of a little hot water with the parking enforcement division and he left me some of his clothes. I use them for work; I don't have a Hetty to magically supply me with an expensive wardrobe."

"Oh." She turned to see Sam forcing G to release a package of chocolate pudding cups.

"I said you could have _one_." Sam said, tilting his head and giving his partner a frown, "ONE.

"This is _one_," G complained, "One package."

Sam gave him the eyebrow and Callen pulled one cup out of the package and put the rest in the refrigerator with a grumble.

"What was that?" Sam asked.

"Nothing." Callen gave an innocent smile, "Just being grateful for what I have."

Kensi pulled some clothes out of the bag; Callen had managed to pack some undershirts, tees and a couple of nice dress shirts. The only problem was, he'd only put in a pair of pajama bottoms and two pairs of board shorts.

Kensi shook her head with a disgusted sigh. "Did you guys bring anything else?"

"Soup, eggs, crackers, bread and sprite." said Sam. "And some Diet Coke, donuts and snack cakes for you."

Kensi stuck her tongue out at Sam, "I meant clothing wise."

"Callen packed the bag."

G shrugged, he'd been eating the pudding with his fingers and had it smeared on his upper lip like a Wild West mustache. "I just grabbed a few things."

"Obviously." She put a hand on her hip, "Next time you should do it, Sam."

"What?" Marty asked with a grin, "You were planning on taking me out somewhere nice for dinner?"

"Well I can't now, can I?" she gave him a mock glare, "You don't have a tie!"

"What's the deal with calling me Cinderella?" Deeks asked.

"You lost a shoe and Prince Charming found it for you." Callen laughed, pointing at his partner.

Sam swatted at G and Kensi and Deeks laughed.

"I guess that makes you one of the mice then, huh Callen?" Deeks teased.

G cocked an eyebrow at him and twitched his nose, "Maybe."

"We better get back to work," said Sam. "We still haven't cleared that last case. Now that you're awake, maybe you could lend us a hand."

"I'm ready anytime you are." Deeks replied.

"In a couple of days then."

_**ZZzzzzzzz**_

The smut muse suddenly attacked me the other night on the way home from work. I started a new Deeks fic called Elegant Agony that I will eventually post (not here, it's a bit too dark for the younger crowd) and that led to this new chapter. Of course it may have also been watching Eric's movies – _Death Valley_ and _Local Boys_ with Mark Harmon. They are both good movies – lots of angsty scenes for Eric. Check them out if you get the chance.


	10. Chapter 10

ALE Chap 10

Don't Ask Me Why

Kensi helped Marty to the bathroom and he took a quick shower then changed into a tee shirt and shorts while she waited outside the door.

After a light dinner, they settled down in the living room to watch TV for a while.

"I heard you." his eyes never wavered from the television screen.

"What?" Kensi glanced at him nervously.

"I heard you," avoiding her eyes, he scraped at the empty jello cup, "talking to me when I was unconscious."

Kensi blushed, recalling the times she had kissed his hand, and eventually his clean shaven cheek. "Really?"

"I don't think I would have made it back it if it hadn't been for everyone telling me I could."

Self-conscious, Kensi ducked her head, "You did it though and that's pretty amazing."

A few moments of awkward silence followed and then he asked, "Do you want to watch Dancing with the Stars?'

Kensi grinned, "I love Dancing with the Stars! I didn't know you liked it, though."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, partner." he gave her a lecherous grin.

"And some things I'd rather not know." she teased.

Four hours of mind-numbing television later, Deeks asked her to make a run to the store to get him some Gatorade.

"I'm sick of juice and sprite," he complained, "Any more of it and I _will_ throw up."

Kensi wrinkled her nose at the prospect, "Is there any particular flavor you'd like?"

"Whatever kind they have is fine."

He followed her to the door, "Check for tails, anyone following you or paying too much attention to you." he cautioned her.

Kensi started to laugh, and then realized he was being completely serious. "Okay."

When she returned, he met her at the door, gun in hand. He looked carefully up and down the street, then shut the door and bolted it.

The store had been small and the selection of flavors few but Marty was satisfied. He cracked open one bottle and drank the warm liquid directly from the container.

Kensi shook her head, "I guess you really were thirsty."

When he set the bottle down it was half empty, "Yeah. I think I'll let the others get cold before I drink them."

They were watching the evening news when Kensi caught him yawning.

"Time for bed, come on." She held her hands out to help him up from the couch.

He grinned.

Kensi's eyes narrowed, "Down boy, you're sleeping in the bed alone."

He crossed his arms, pouting.

"I don't want to sleep in the bedroom. I've spent the last three weeks in a bed."

"Suit yourself," she grumbled. "I'll take the bed." Kensi brought a pillow and light blanket from the hall closet.

"Besides, I'm not tired."

She could tell by looking that he was, but she wasn't going to argue with him.

"Well I am." she tucked the pillow behind him and spread the blanket over his legs. "You don't have to sleep, just lay back and be quiet so I can, okay?"

He settled back on the couch, making certain that his gun was within easy reach.

She picked up the remote to turn off the TV and he protested.

"Please? Please leave it on. I promise I'll keep the volume low."

Kensi handed him the remote. "Okay."

She hung her blouse and slacks in the closet. Callen hadn't packed any clothes for her so she pulled on one of Deeks' tees and a pair of his pajama pants. The shirt hung on her but the pants fit surprisingly well.

She opened the door and called to him, "If you need anything, yell."

"Okay." he answered. "Make sure your window is closed and locked .Good night."

Kensi rolled her eyes, "I will. Good night." she left the door half open and turned out the light.

The sheets were cool and smelled faintly of cedar. She fell asleep quickly.

She woke, disoriented in the unfamiliar room. Kensi reached for the alarm clock, it was four-twenty in the morning. A sound from the living room brought her to her feet. Awake now, she slid her gun from under the pillow and crept down the hall.

Light from the TV bathed the room in fuzzy blue-white.

Deeks was moving restlessly on the couch, talking in his sleep. His hands were clutching the light blanket she'd covered him with.

Kensi hurried to him and crouched beside him.

"I don't know." he mumbled, "I don't… please…" he sucked in a deep breath like a man half drowned and sat up suddenly.

"Deeks?" she said softly, "It's all right, you just had a bad dream. You're okay."

He was still gasping, fighting off the last vestiges of the nightmare. Kensi put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently to let him know that she was there but he didn't react. She put her other hand on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble that was growing back now that he wasn't shaving.

Deeks turned and looked at her his eyes were wild and dark with fright "Kensi." he sighed.

"It was just a bad dream." she repeated.

"I…" his eyes focused on her and he smiled crookedly, "I'm thirsty."

She smiled back, "Gatorade?"

"Please."

She didn't miss the shudder that racked him as she got to her feet.

Kensi open the refrigerator, removed a bottle and poured some of the blue liquid into a tall glass and took it to him.

"Thanks." he said, taking the glass with a trembling hand. He took a few sips and then set the glass on the table.

"You okay now?" she asked.

He looked at her with a puzzled frown, "You're in my pants."

"Excuse me?" she asked with a trace of indignation in her voice.

His expression was humorous, "You're wearing my clothes."

"Oh. Well yeah," she stuttered, flushing, "For some reason, Callen didn't pack anything for me except my slippers."

He tilted his head and smiled, "You look good in my clothes."

Kensi laughed, trying to cover her embarrassment.

Deeks struggled to get off of the couch, "I gotta go."

"Go where? 

"Bathroom."

"I'll help you." she offered, holding out a hand.

He waved her off and made it to his feet without assistance, "I can go pee by myself, thanks,"

On shaky legs, he walked slowly to the bathroom, leaning on the wall as he went down the hall.

He returned a few minutes later on more steady feet and dropped back down on the couch, "Did I wake you up?"

"I don't know." she answered, "I woke up and looked at the clock then I heard something. When I came in here, you were talking in your sleep."

He grumbled something she didn't understand got up and shuffled into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He stood staring at the meager contents for a moment then closed the door and came back to the living room.

"I don't think I can get back to sleep, is there a pack of cards in this place?"

Kensi dug a pack of cards out of the table between the chair and couch and handed it to him.

"I think I'll run back to my place, take a shower and get a change of clothes. Will you be alright by yourself for a couple of hours?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm good." he opened the cards and dropped onto the couch. "Bring me some coffee when you come back?"

"Sure." she headed for the kitchen door and the garage beyond. "Call my cell if you need anything."

Kensi drove home, keeping an eye out for cars that seemed to stay with her. "I'm getting as paranoid as he is." she grumbled to herself.

She took a shower, washed her hair and changed into a pair of jeans and a white polo shirt. Kensi packed a small overnight bag with a few essentials, then locked up and headed out.

On the way back to the safe house, she stopped at the drive thru and got two breakfast burritos and two large coffees.

When she got back, Marty held the door open just wide enough for her to slip through. She set the breakfast items on the counter and took her bag to the bedroom and set it on the bed.

When she came back to the kitchen, Deeks had set the table, removed the burritos from their paper covers and placed them on the plates.

"Thank you." she said, taking a seat.

"Thank you," he said, sitting down across from her.

Kensi dug into her breakfast, she had half her burrito consumed when she noticed that he had stopped eating.

"Is something wrong? You don't like it?"

"No, no it's okay…"

"I can fix you something else."

"Kensi it's fine, I'm just not very hungry." he unrolled his burrito and picked at the filling. He ate the egg and the sausage, leaving the cheese and vegetables on the tortilla.

Kensi eyed him worriedly.

He hardly touched his coffee, which was strange for a guy who normally drank huge cups of the caffeinated beverage.

"Would you please stop staring at me like I'm going to suddenly burst into flames." he groused.

"Sorry." She concentrated on her plate, finishing her breakfast and her coffee.

When they were done, he cleared the table, thanking her for picking up breakfast.

"It was a good burrito," he said, "I'm just not feeling very hungry, that's all."

Kensi washed the dishes; he dried them and put them back in the cabinet. It made her smile that they were having such a domestic moment together.

"What?' he asked, noticing her grinning at him.

"It's just…" she held back a laugh, "us..."

"Like we've been doing this forever." he finished.

_**XxXxX**_

At nine o'clock the doorbell rang. Marty held his pistol by his leg while Kensi opened the door.

"Mornin' all." Dr. Lassiter said, stepping inside. His grey eyes didn't miss Deeks holstering his pistol in the waistband of his pants.

Kensi busied herself in the bedroom, putting away her clothes. When that small task was complete she went to the kitchen.

Dr. Vin's exam of him was more thorough this time. He listened to his heart and lungs, checked his eyes, ears and throat and pressed on his nail beds to check capillary refill.

"Pulse is a little slower than I like." he drawled, "But your respiration is deep and normal. Your color is good and you're talkin' fine."

"Blah, blah, blah." Marty laughed.

"How's your appetite?"

"I'm not real hungry," Marty admitted, "Kensi's trying to get me to eat more."

Vin nodded, "That's not unusual. No nausea, vomiting or stomach pain?"

"Nope."

"Good. Are you stayin' hydrated?"

Deeks held up a half empty bottle of Gatorade.

Vin nodded, "That's better for you than the juice or soda pop. Any problems going to the bathroom?"

"Just getting there."

"Exercise, but take it easy." he warned, "Try to do too much and you'll end up back in the hospital, like it or not."

Vin held his hands up, palms facing Marty, "Push against my hands."

Deeks did and the doctor smiled, "You're getting stronger. Mama and the twins said to tell you hello and that they will come see you as soon as they can."

Marty looked pleased, "Tell them I miss them."

"You aren't going to be up to any Muhammad 'greetings' for a while, so best not even try it." Dr. Vin cautioned.

Deeks rubbed his forehead with a wry smile. "Okay.

"Now, why don't you get dressed so you can take a lap around the back yard?" he said.

Marty got up without help and walked down the hall. Dr. Lassiter watched him until he disappeared into the bedroom.

Dr. Lassiter joined Kensi in the kitchen.

He fixed a steely-eyed gaze on her. "Now you tell me, how is he doing?" he asked softly.

Kensi folded her arms and spoke softly. "Truthfully, I'm worried about him. He's really paranoid, convinced that someone is out to get him. He pulls his gun out every time the doorbell rings and he won't go outside without checking to see if there's anyone lurking around. Do you think he might be brain damaged or something?"

Vin shook his head slowly with a tight smile, "Marty's got his problems but brain damage ain't one of 'em."

Kensi was silent for a moment, her lips compressed into a frown. "So what do you think it is?"

"Can't say for sure, but I know what it isn't. It's not paranoia. Look how relaxed he is right now. Paranoia would have him hyper vigilant constantly. He genuinely believes someone attacked him."

"The nurses said he just had a bad dream and that no one had been in his room."

"No one that they saw. I noticed some bruising starting to show on his chest," he put his fist on the center of his chest, "right here. It's deep tissue bruising with some dermal abrasion. An old school method for checkin' to see if someone is fakin' being unconscious is to rub your knuckles hard on the sternum, the pain can be excruciating."

He glanced back at the hallway, "It's a possibility that someone did that to him and it may have been the reason he woke up."

"So you think someone really did attack him?" Kensi sighed and crossed her arms.

"I think you need to get him out of here. Staying cooped up in this house ain't doin' him no good."

"Are you sure he's up to it? He's only been conscious for a day."

"I wouldn't recommend letting him drive during a car chase, but physically he's fine." the doctor assured her, "It'd give him something to do, keep his mind busy. Someone could keep an eye on him and if he gets tired, send him to bed."

Kensi thought for a moment, "I'll have to ask my boss."

Dr. Vin smiled, dug a pair of suckers out of his bag and laid them on the counter. "If your boss gives you any guff, have her call me."

"Her?" Kensi asked, raising a brow. "How do you know my boss is a woman?"

"Mama told me about your Ms. Lange." He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. "She sounds like someone I know. Call me if you need anything, I can meet you wherever you like. Oh, I almost forgot, Mama and the twins are coming by to see him," he checked his watch, "in about twenty minutes and I have a date with a golf ball. 'bye, Kensi." he closed the door behind him.

Deeks came into the kitchen; he was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt.

"So how do you feel about heading in to the office with me today?" Kensi asked.

"Really?" he looked as though he thought she were teasing him, "You'd let me go with you?"

"Dr. Lassiter seemed to think it would be good for you."

"What did Hetty say?"

"I didn't ask her, I'm asking you."

Marty reached for the green sucker. "So if I want to, I can?"

Kensi smiled, "If you want to."

"But what about my clothes?"

"Eric dresses like that all the time and I'm sure Hetty will loan you something if she doesn't care for what you're wearing. Dr. Lassiter said Mama and the twins will be here in about twenty minutes, would you mind not pointing a gun at them?"

He took his gun out and put it in the drawer. "There. Happy?"

"Yes," she said, and picked up the other sucker, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth.

_**XxXxX**_

Fifteen minutes later a dark blue sedan pulled up in the driveway. The driver got out and opened the rear door. A short, delicate negro woman in a mint green pantsuit got out.

The twins were dressed in matching black suits and pale blue shirts with darker blue ties. Alvin's expression was grim but Muhammad looked almost joyful.

Mama Chang led them into the house.

"Kensi." Alvin nodded to the agent as he stepped inside.

Muhammad gave Kensi a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, "Where is Zack?"

"Remember what I told you;" Mama Chang laid a dainty hand on her son's arm, "Be gentle." the older woman gave Kensi a smile, "He's very excited that Zack is out of the hospital."

"Zack!" he called, spotting the man in the living room. He rushed over and picked the detective up off his feet.

"I greet you gentle." Muhammad said, touching his forehead to Marty's without the usual force.

"Thanks, big guy." said Marty breathlessly, "Now, could you put me down?"

Muhammad tenderly lowered him back to the floor.

Mama Chang threw her arms around Marty and hugged him tight.

"You're too skinny." she scolded.

"You always say that." Deeks protested.

"It is always true." she laid a hand on his cheek, "You're getting scruffy again."

"I hate shaving."

"You look younger without the beard." she said with a wry smile.

"I look like a kid without the beard."

Alvin step forward, hands clasped behind his back, "It's good to see you up and around." a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I won't need to borrow music from the booth?"

"Better not." Marty warned.

"We can't stay long; you've got to be going." Mama said.

Marty's eyebrows raised, "Me? Going where?"

She gave him an inscrutable look, "I know you, Zack Donavan," she said with just the slightest accent on his undercover name. "You won't stay locked up in this house very long, you've got to be out there," she waved a hand, "getting into things." she smiled.

"I'm glad to see you." Marty said.

"When you feel up to it, I want you to come home for dinner." she poked him gently. "You've lost weight you needed to keep."

Marty rolled his eyes; his weight was a long standing argument between them.

"I saw that," Mama scolded. "Don't you be arguing with me."

Deeks looked at Kensi for help and she just shrugged.

"Don't look at me," Kensi said. "I'm staying out of this."

"I promise I'll come for dinner as soon as I can." he conceded.

Mama nodded, "Don't make me send the hounds after you," she looked at Alvin, "We'd better go so Zack can get going too."

"Yes, Mama." Muhammad shook hands with Marty and Kensi, "Goodbye, we see you at dinner soon."

Alvin nodded to Kensi, "It was nice to see you again."

"And you." Kensi replied, walking the trio to the door.

Deeks stood behind her, waved to the others as they got into the car. He locked the door as soon as Kensi closed it.

"Why does Alvin always have his hand in his pocket or behind his back?" Kensi asked, taking a seat in the recliner. "Is it some kind of gangster thing?"

Deeks looked thoughtful for a moment, "Did you know that Muhammad was a professor of mathematics at USC? He taught calculus and quantum mechanics." Marty sat on the couch and picked at the hem on his shorts.

"Alvin talked Muhammad into taking the summer off to be a bodyguard for Damon Sharpe. Sharpe like the idea of having a matched set of bodyguard - his twin dogs as he called them."

Kensi could detect a slight quaver in his voice as he spoke. Deeks still carried scars both mental and physical from his confrontation with the now deceased drug dealer Damon Sharpe.

"Not one person got past them; they made a pretty scary pair." Deeks continued. "No one dared to mess with Damon Sharpe as long as the twins were around. It was two weeks before school started back up when some rival of Sharpe's came around, did a drive by in the parking lot of the club and ripped the twins to shreds."

Marty's fingers twisted the fabric. "Muhammad was shot three times in the head; Alvin took one in his chest, left hand and wrist. Both of them nearly died and Sharpe…" his voice cracked, "Sharpe wasn't even scratched."

Deeks shook his head, "He didn't visit them in the hospital or even offer to help with the medical bills. He just walked away like they were nothing, disposable."

Marty's shoulders tensed and he was silent for several minutes. "Muhammad was in a medically induced coma for a week while they waited for the swelling in his brain to go down enough that that they could see how much damage had been done. They told Mama that he would probably not survive and even if he did he wouldn't be able to do anything for himself again. Mama Chang sold everything she had, cashed out her retirement and brought in the best doctors she could find to take care of him."

Kensi leaned closer to Deeks, her eyes soft. "What about Alvin?"

"His left hand was messed up pretty bad, they wanted to amputate it but he wouldn't let them. He has a lot of nerve and tendon damage in it; sometimes he can't hold onto things. The scars are pretty ugly."

"So that's why he'd always hiding his hand? The scars?"

"Yeah."

"Why doesn't he just have some cosmetic surgery done on it? They can do some pretty amazing things with making scars almost invisible."

"He won't." Deeks looked up at her and his eyes were dark and damp, "I think he wants to keep the scars to remind him that it was his fault."

"His fault that someone shot them?"

"His fault that someone shot his brother." Deeks sat back, tilting his head and staring at the ceiling. "Alvin talked Muhammad into taking the job. He feels responsible for Muhammad losing everything."

"Oh." said Kensi. She didn't like the sudden tension in the air, "So, how about we head on in? It's still early, I bet we can find something to keep you out of trouble," she grinned, "at least for a little while."

Deeks got up and Kensi noticed for the first time that he was wearing the flip flops Callen had packed.

"They go better with the shorts," he explained with a grin.

_**ZZZzzzzzzz**_

**Violet Eternity, Liz-Beth520, grs4ever, Jena**, and **pyps** - Thank you for all the encouragement!

**BlueEyes44, Darcy Foster** and my lucky charm **Penelope the Perky Penguin** – Thank you for sticking with me!

**amblue36** – You are the best! Thank you for nudging the muse and keeping me going!

To everyone who has read and reviewed – **YOU** are my inspiration, THANKS!

_Elegant Agony_ is still waiting for my beta to get back to me – I hope I haven't scared her off…

To learn more about the Changs and Damon Sharpe, read my other story _Past Presence._


	11. Chapter 11

"Welcome back, Mr. Deeks." said Hetty, scowling at his choice of clothing, "You _are_ back for work, am I correct?"

Deeks flushed, "I am. It's not my fault, Callen backed a bag for me." he explained.

"If you will accompany me," Hetty smiled, "I'll see to it that you are more suitably attired for the office."

Deeks followed her back into the wardrobe area.

"You think this was a good idea?" asked Sam.

"Dr. Lassiter suggested it." Kensi leaned back in her chair. "He seemed to think Deeks needs to have something to occupy his mind instead of worrying about whoever he thinks is after him."

"Why would someone be after him?" G said. "Deeks killed Lansing; the only ones who might come after him would be Lansing's buddies."

"Chris Santori is top of that list." Sam growled.

"And we are oh for two on our cases so far."

"Thanks for the update, G." Sam grumbled, "It's nice to be reminded that we haven't solved anything since Deeks murdered that guy."

Kensi sat up, her heels sounding like a gunshot as they hit the floor. "We don't know for certain that Deeks _murdered_ Robert Lansing," she said angrily, "We don't know what went on at that restaurant. It could have been self-defense for all we know."

"Sorry Kensi, you're right. We just need Deeks to remember what happened." Callen apologized.

Deeks returned a short time later. Sam whistled and Callen hooted, Kensi tried to keep from grinning but was unsuccessful.

"Shut up." Marty grumbled good naturedly. He was smiling too.

Hetty had given him a blue plaid button down shirt, a pair of khakis slacks, black loafers and had combed his hair and shaved his beard.

"Who is this kid?" Sam teased, "How did he get past security?"

"I'd say send him home but I don't think he's old enough to drive himself." Callen said.

"Ignore them, they're just jealous." Kensi pulled her partner away from them. "You look fine."

"Thank you." Marty sat at his desk, "I feel like I just walked out of the academy."

"You look like it too." Callen said.

"You feel up to taking a ride?" Kensi asked, "I though maybe we could go up to Café Bel Flur and see it helps you to remember anything."

"Yeah." Deeks nodded, "I'd like to do that."

**XxXxX**

Kensi drove up Robertson Boulevard and finally found a parking place half a block north of the café. She's impatient and Deeks practically had to trot to keep up with her long legged strides back to the bistro.

The outdoor patio was crowded and people jostled him as he tried to keep up with her. She grabbed a table, glaring at the well dressed older couple who had reached it at the same time. They glanced nervously at her, and then walked away.

"Sit down." Kensi said. "Not there, over here." She pointed to a chair that faced the trees.

He does as she tells him.

"Does anything look familiar?" she asked as she sat across from him.

He looked around, brow furrowed with concentration.

"Well, does it?" she asked, edgily.

"No." he sighed.

"Concentrate Deeks, you came here for some reason. What was it?"

A slim, dark-haired waitress came to the table with her pad and pen ready, Kensi waved her away, "We're not ready." she said gruffly.

"Water, to start." Deeks said, smiling at the waitress, "easy ice with a slice of lime and a cherry, please?"

Kensi threw up her hands, aggravated. "You came here to flirt?"

"I'm thirsty, Kensi and there's no need to be rude." he leaned toward her and said quietly, "Besides it's lunch hour and you can't take up a table without ordering something."

"Of course. Sorry." chastened, Kensi smiled at the waitress, "I'll have a pomegranate spritzer."

When the waitress had gone she started questioning him again, "You're meeting Robert Lansing here, why?"

"Who?"

"The guy you killed in the trees. Come on Deeks, you have to work with me." she leaned across the table, "Lansing, crew cut blond hair, blue eyes. Why did you meet him?"

Deeks shook his head, "I can't remember him."

"You followed him to the trees." she pointed, "You got into a fight and you killed him."

He looked around; searching the people and the place, nothing even remotely seemed familiar. The noise of all the voices and the rattle of silverware and china made his head ache; he rubbed the heel of his right hand across his temple.

The waitress brought their drinks and Kensi told her they weren't ready to order anything else yet.

Deeks picked up his glass and drained it without taking a breath. He signaled the waitress to bring him another.

"Are you alright?" Kensi asked.

"Fine." he said, "It's just hot out here."

Kensi took a sip of her drink, "It is." she agreed.

Marty sipped at his next drink, wiping sweat off his brow.

Kensi waited until he'd set the glass down and leaned back in the chair and then held out her phone, showing him a photo of Lansing.

"This is Robert Lansing, he was a Navy Seal set to deploy soon. You met him here at this restaurant and you fought with him."

Marty shook his head, "I don't remember that guy."

"Okay Deeks, if you can't remember Lansing, try remembering why you called me. Why did you want me to meet you here?"

"I'm serious Kensi, I can't remember. I try but everything after breakfast and waking up here is a total blank." His hands tightened around the tall glass. "You keep badgering me and I CAN'T REMEMBER!"

People at the surrounding tables looked up at his raised voice.

"Calm down Deeks." she reached out for his hand and he flinched away.

"Don't," he said, "just leave me alone."

"Maybe this was a bad idea." Kensi stood and tossed some bills on the table. "Let's go."

Marty got up and looked at Kensi but she wouldn't meet his eyes. He sighed, shoulders slumping and followed her back to the car. Their pace was much slower this time and they didn't speak.

He could tell Kensi was upset by the way she walked, hands fisted at her sides and eyes on the sidewalk. He glanced back at the café; all that brought to him was a pounding headache.

Kensi went down first, and Deeks fell seconds later. They are both stunned by the taser hits and unable to fight back as they are dumped into the white panel van double parked beside her car.

The van lurched forward as two men jumped in beside them. Tape was slapped across their eyes and hands search through their pockets.

The agents could hear the contents of their pockets being discarded on the bare metal floor – the click of keys, the heavier sounds of wallets and phones. Hands slipped across their clothing, patting them down, searching everywhere.

Deeks heard Kensi protest and he understood why as the hands invaded their clothing but there is nothing either one of them can do about it.

The van made three right turns then slowed down. The door opened and they were shoved out and onto the sidewalk. The sliding door slammed and the tires barked as it sped away down the street.

"Could you get your elbow out of my pancreas?" Marty groaned. "Please?"

Kensi rolled off of him, yelping as she tore off the tape and apparently some of her eyelashes.

She yanked the tape off him.

"Ouch!" he complained, "You just love to rip tape off of me don't you." he smiled but her grim expression made him cut short on any more joking.

"They took my phone!" she patted her pants pocket, "Dammit, they kept my car keys!"

"I don't think that's going to be a problem." said Deeks, pointing at the Cadillac, "They opened the car for us."

The window on the passenger side had been shattered to gain access and the doors were wide open. The glove box was open, the contents scattered on the floor, the back seat had been pried up and the floor mats tossed on the ground.

"Oh, that does **IT!**" Kensi shouted, "When I find them, I'm shooting off essential body parts!"

Deeks winced; it may have been her volume or the threat. Whichever, it didn't help his headache any.

It took fifteen minutes but they finally located a payphone.

"Who uses payphones when everyone has a cell phone?" Marty said when Kensi complained about the lack of public phones.

By the time Callen arrived to pick them up, the tow truck had already taken Kensi's car back to the garage.

"I'm headed back to the boathouse," Callen explained, "Santori insisted on coming over for an update and I don't trust Sam not to pulverize him while I'm gone."

Kensi gave Deeks a strange look, and then shrugged her shoulders. "Fine."

Callen opened his mouth to say something else but Kensi held up her hand in a stopping motion.

"One word, Callen and I will have you singing soprano for the next week." she threatened.

Deeks stifled a laugh, "Just ask the four other guys she's …"

Kensi slugged him on the arm, "Shut up Deeks."

"Ooh, somebody needs a nap." said Callen.

Kensi got in the front and slammed the door.

Deeks shook his head and got in the back.

Sam was just escorting Chris Santori out of the building when they arrived.

Chris stopped, stared for a moment then shook his head, "That guy…"

"It's not that guy;" Kensi said, pushing past him, "he's an LAPD detective who is helping us out on the case."

"That kid?" Chris snorted, "Fresh out of the academy, I bet he's loads of help."

"Hey," Deeks protested and Kensi grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.

"Just stay away from him, Deeks. I think that guy would like to kill you." she told her partner.

"Kill me? Why? What did I ever do to him?"

"It's a long story, sit and have a cup of coffee while we talk about it." she poured a cup and set it on the table.

"First how about you explain how come you needed a ride back?" asked Sam, pulling out a chair at the table and sitting down in it.

Kensi paced, her arms crossed and eyes blazing, "We went to the café and Deeks couldn't remember anything so we started back to the car and some guys jumped us and threw us into a van."

"Someone got the drop on _you_?" asked Callen.

"These guys were pros." Kensi grumbled, "They took us down, searched us thoroughly and dropped us in a matter of minutes."

"Yeah, I usually insist on at least one mixed drink before I let anyone grope me like that." Deeks quipped.

Kensi glared at him and he shrugged and grinned back at her.

"They were looking for something and whatever it is they want it bad."

"Deeks what the hell are you involved in?"

_**Zzzzzzz**_

I would have had this chapter up last week but the heat has apparently fried my brain. I cannot string words together in a coherent manner without making a ton of basic mistakes. Betas appear to be frightened of me – I haven't been able to locate one person willing to take this story on, even my beta for Elegant Agony has disappeared…

So anyway, my apologies if this chapter completely sucked as bad as I think it did but I'm sick of looking at it.

If I can get a working brain, the next chapter should be up in two weeks.

Thank you very much to everyone who has kept reading, you make the muse happy!

Amblue36, if it weren't for you, I think I'd give up on this. I can't thank you enough for all the prodding to continue.

BlueEyes444 and LostForeverInHisEyes, thanks for your continued support.

Ealasaid Una. welcome, I hope you'll enjoy the ride!


	12. Chapter 12

It was a little crowded with all four of them riding in Callen's car but they made it back to the OSP building in good time.

Kensi seemed to be hoping to avoid Hetty; she went straight to her desk.

Deeks had just settled into his chair when Nate appeared.

"Would you be interested in trying something to help you remember what happened at Café Bel Flur?" the psychologist asked the detective.

"I tried this with Kensi and all I got out of it was a headache and some guys jumping us."

"I promise no one is going to attack you," Nate reassured him, "we aren't going anywhere but my office."

Marty followed Nate to one of the offices in the back.

Deeks cocked his head and looked suspiciously at the taller man, "I'm not gonna have to lie on the couch am I?"

"Only if you want to. Sit or lay wherever you would like, just make yourself comfortable."

"Yeah, right." Deeks sprawled in the wicker plantation chair, arms crossed on his chest and his chin tucked down.

Nate quirked his lips, Marty never seemed completely at ease talking to him. He got the feeling that the detective knew nearly as much about psychology as he did, his emotional cues were sometimes almost too obvious.

"Take a deep breath in and hold it." Nate said.

Deeks inhaled, held his breath for a moment and let it out.

"Again, but let it out slower this time and close your eyes."

Deeks did as he was told and his shoulders lowered as he visibly relaxed.

Nate sat back in his chair, "Next Tuesday, a week from today, you are going to get out of bed and fix yourself anything you want for breakfast. What are you going to have?"

"Next Tuesday?" Deeks open one eye and looked quizzically at Nate.

"Next Tuesday, anything you want, don't think about it just say it."

"Pancakes. Blueberry pancakes, homemade with fresh blueberries."

"Now tell me how you make them, step by step."

"How is cooking class going to help?" Deeks grumbled.

"Trust me. Close your eyes." Nate smiled. "Just tell me how you make pancakes."

"Al right. I have a big glass measuring cup; I measure the flour, baking powder and a little salt and sugar in it. I add two eggs and some milk and mix it up smooth and just a little thick. I set it aside while I wash the blueberries with ice water. I lightly grease the griddle with a little olive oil and while it's heating I fold the blueberries into the batter. You can't stir it too hard 'cause it crushes the berries and they taste better when they aren't bruised. When the griddle is hot I pour the batter onto it slowly."

"And then?"

"I grill it until it starts to bubble then I flip it over and cook it until it's lightly crisp. I put it on a plate add a little butter and cook more pancakes until all the batter is gone. Each pancake gets a little butter but no syrup yet. I put the measuring cup in the sink and add water to it so it can soak while I eat. I pour myself a glass of milk. Then I pour the cold maple syrup on the pancakes, they are still warm and the syrup is thick."

"What do they taste like?"

Deeks shook his head with a smile, eyes still closed. "Like fresh blueberry pancakes?"

"After breakfast you're going to get in your car and drive. You drive north from your apartment; turn on Sepulveda and then turn west on Santa Monica Boulevard." Nate spoke softly but clearly. "You're just driving and looking at all the people walking around. Looking at all the tourists with their camera and ugly shorts and plastic sandals."

The psychologist continued to speak in a rhythmic tone. "You stop at Century City, find a good place to park and then walk to the plaza. There's a bench under a tree and you sit there for a while, watching all the beautiful women with their shopping bags, heading home or back to work at the studio a couple of blocks down. Do you see the women?"

Deeks smiled, eyes still closed, "I see them. Sexy, gorgeous a lot better looking than the ones on the boulevard."

"It's getting almost lunch time. You get out your cell phone and you call Kensi. You ask her to meet you at the corner of Robertson and Wilshire."

"Okay." Deeks sounded slightly drowsy.

Nate's voice was smooth, calming. "The traffic is getting heavy so you take Pico up to Doheny. You park up by the Beverly Hills Playhouse and walk to Wilshire. There's a bistro there. You sit at a table outside and order a Mills Iced Tea."

"Mills Iced Tea, hold the vodka, splash of grenadine."

"The waitress delivers it to your table and you tip her $20. You sip your tea and you see a blond-haired man heading for the trees. Then what do you do?"

Marty let out a slow breath, "He's acting weird and there's a guy following him, real obvious about it, like he wants to the other guy to know that he's there, wants him to be scared."

"What do you do?" Nate asked softly.

"I look around; no one else seems to have noticed. Kensi isn't here yet. I figure I have time to put the brakes on a mugging before she arrives so I get up and follow them."

"You get to the trees, what are the men doing?"

"The blond one rushes at me, shoves me and tells me to get out. He … he…" Marty frowned, eyes still closed and he plucked at his shirt collar. "There's something in his hand and he drops it down my shirt."

Nate raised an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"I don't know. I don't have time to get it before someone grabs me from behind."

"What happened next?"

"More guys show up, just out of nowhere. They're fighting… he's fighting them trying to keep them from getting … something … in his hand and he's … shouting at me to run."

"Do you run?"

"I can't. I try but the guy is taller than me, I can't get a hold of him. He's choking me… I claw and kick and I can't get away."

"Then what happens?"

Marty gasped, his hands fluttering across his neck and chest, "I can't remember!"

"Relax," Nate said calmly, "take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

Deeks is still panicky, "I can't feel my legs anymore, everything is getting dark and my hands tingle." he shuddered, "Then there's a bright flash like lighting and everything goes black."

"You're okay, just be calm," Nate reached over and grasped Marty's wrist, "Breathe, you're safe, no one is hurting you."

The detective's eyes snapped open, unfocused. "I'm good, I'm fine," he chanted, shaking free of the physiologist's grip. "I'm good."

"Where are you?" Nate asked.

Deeks gave him a dirty look, "Trapped in a small room with a guy asking me crazy questions?"

Nate smiled, "True. Now can you remember what the men you were following looked like?"

Deeks looked surprised for a moment, "One of them was the guy Kensi showed me a picture of, Lansing. How did you do that?"

Nate shook his head, "I didn't do anything, you did it."

"The other guy, he's got short, dark hair and a scar on his chin."

"Excellent, do you think you could get with Eric and get a composite of this other man?"

Deeks got up, grinning, "Absolutely!"

_**XxXxX**_

"I didn't kill anyone!" Deeks said, relief evident in his voice. He sat at his desk, tracing designs on the tabletop with nervous fingers, "I thought it was a mugging and I tried to stop it. _I_ didn't kill Lansing."

"What exactly happened?" Sam asked.

Deeks leaned back in his chair. "I finished my case and was driving around, saw this little café and stopped in for a bite to eat. I saw this guy following Lansing and I followed them both to the trees. Lansing ran at me and tried to get me to leave but someone grabbed me from behind. I couldn't get away. They were fighting over something; Lansing was trying to keep the other guy from getting whatever it was he had in his hand. That's all I remember until someone tried to kill me at the hospital."

"So can you identify the guys that attacked you and Lansing?"

"I only saw one of them, the guy that attacked Lansing. I never saw that guy that jumped me. I'm going to talk to Eric, see if he can do a composite of the guy who attacked Lansing."

"That's great!" said Kensi

In her usual stealthy approach, Hetty appeared in the doorway "Miss Blye, here is your new phone, identification and keys to your car." Hetty gave her a glare, "Your automobile will be ready in an hour."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault," Kensi protested, "It was …" she gave up when Hetty turned away.

Marty gave her an apologetic smile, "Sorry."

"S'okay. That reminds me, I have your wallet and stuff. They gave it to me at the hospital. It's upstairs."

"Great, I have to go upstairs anyway and have Eric do a composite of the guy I saw with Lansing."

_**XxXxX**_

The doors opened and Eric looked up from his computer and held up a finger, "Just a sec, I'm almost finished."

Kensi picked up the bag and pulled out Deeks' watch, wallet and keys and handed them to him.

Marty got a strange look on his face as he accepted them.

"What?" asked Kensi, "It's all here, I didn't keep anything, even the cash is still in your wallet." she teased.

"It's not that," Deeks stared at his watch, "I remember something from the hospital, when I woke up. Whoever was trying to suffocate me was wearing a big, clunky watch."

"Hey," said Eric, turning from his computer, "I'm done; I can help you with that composite now."

"Great." Deeks sat in a chair beside the tech, "White guy, early thirties, short dark hair, dark eyes."

Eric quirked a smile, "That's a start." His fingers flew over the keyboard. "Shape of his face?"

Deeks thought for a moment, "Kinda square, but long. Square chin with a crescent shaped scar here." he traced a spot on his own chin, "about two inches long. Thin lips."

"Skin tone?" Eric asked.

"Medium, like he's spent some time outside but not a lot."

"Nose?"

Marty closed his eyes, "Long, thin and straight, small nostrils."

"What about his eyes?"

"Kinda wide, deep set. He had bags under his eyes, puffy like he hadn't been sleeping much."

The keyboard clicked as Eric entered the information and a face took shape on the screen.

"How's this?" the tech asked.

Deeks nodded, "Close, but make the eyes a little bigger and the eyebrows a little thicker."

Eric made the changes.

Deeks continued, "His hair is kind of thin on the top, thicker on the sides but still short."

The image changed.

"That's him, that's the guy who was following Lansing."

"Do you remember anything about the other guys? How many of them?"

"They were white, at least two more besides the one I followed and the one who had a hold of me."

"That makes four." Kensi studied the picture on the screen. "What about the guy who attacked you?"

"I never saw him." Marty reiterated, "He was behind me and I couldn't get a look at him."

"Did you hurt him; injure him in any way that could help us identify him?"

"It's been three weeks, I'm sure that any scratches or bruises I managed to give him have healed already." Deeks said in an aggravated tone.

"Did you her any of them speak, notice any accents?"

Deeks rubbed at his head, "I don't know, I don't think so."

"What were they wearing? Expensive clothes, jeans and tees? What?"

"I don't know Kensi! I can't remember!" he got to his feet, stumbled toward the door and she put out a hand to stop him.

"Are you alright?" Kensi asked, "Should I call Dr. Lassiter?"

"I'm good."

She raised her eyebrows and he rolled his eyes at her.

"I'm okay, Kensi, really." Deeks insisted, "You can't tell me that being tasered and groped didn't give you the tiniest bit of a headache."

"Dr. Lassiter said to make you take a nap if you got tired."

"I'm not tired, I just have a headache." he protested.

She glared.

"I promise I will call him myself if a couple of aspirin don't help." Deeks headed back downstairs to get something to drink.

Sam met up with Kensi on the stairs; he stepped in front of her, blocking her from following her partner.

"You push a little too hard sometimes Kensi."

"I get the job done." she growled, "Sometime that means I have to push."

"You mind trading partners for a little while?" asked Sam.

Kensi gave him a suspicious glare, "I thought you hated working with Deeks."

"I don't hate working with Deeks, there's just a limit to how much I can listen to him."

Kensi shrugged, "Okay, but only if you promise to keep an eye on him."

Sam cocked his head at her, "You think I wouldn't take care of our boy?"

Kensi pursed her lips, and then smiled, "No, no I think you'll take good care of him."

"Thanks. Try not to get too attached to working with G, he's mine." Sam joked as he turned to go back downstairs. "Let him drive you the meeting with Dwight Salas, he's in a mood."

Kensi grinned, "So that's why you wanted to trade partners! I hope Deeks gives you a hard time."

_**XxXxX**_

"Yo, Deeks," said Sam, eyeing the younger man. "We've got some phone leads that need chasing. You up for that?"

"Yup," Deeks said, popping a couple of aspirin in his mouth and taking a drink.

Sam looked him over critically, decided that the detective was indeed in good enough shape to help and handed him a sheaf of papers. "This is a list of all the contacts in Eddie Tyler's phone. Call them and find out what he'd been up to lately."

It was grunt work and they both knew it but Marty was happy to have something to do. He accepted the pages with a grin, "Sure." He sat at his desk and picked up the phone and dialed the first number on the list.

"McNeil Everett?" Marty asked.

The line crackled and popped, "Where are you? Did you get it?" the man hissed.

"Salas? Damn it, this connection is shit! I'll call you back."

Marty held the phone out, staring at it like he'd picked up a poisonous snake.

Sam glanced at the detective, "Deeks? Something wrong?"

The younger man turned toward Sam, "I…"

Deeks dropped the phone; the clatter as it hit the desk was loud in the nearly empty room.

_**ZZzzzzzzz…**_

Still a tad frustrated with this_**.**_ But thanks to some wonderful encouragement from **KasajishiFutaicho, jailey, whatisNOTmyname** and **BlueEyes44** you're getting more!

**Everyone should give a big hand to amblue36, she has been my inspiration for keeping this going! I don't know what I would do without her!**


	13. Chapter 13

Deeks was pale, breathless like he'd just run a marathon.

"Deeks, you okay?" Sam asked.

Marty compressed his lips, took a deep breath and held it, "Yeah, I'm good." he breathed.

Sam shook his head, "Don't lie to me, I know your tell. What's going on?"

Marty put his hands on the desk palms down, fingers spread like he was trying to keep from floating away. "Just a little spooked, I guess."

"What happened?" asked Sam.

"The guy on the phone, when he spoke… I could hear the guy at the hospital that tried to kill me."

Sam leaned forward, "Was it the same guy?"

"I don't think so." Marty put his hands over his face, "maybe it was, I don't know."

"Hey, you were under a lot of stress. Don't beat yourself up over something you can't help."

"You believe me?" Deeks put his hands flat on the desk again, "You believe someone attacked me?"

"I believe you believe someone attacked you. I'd rather believe you were attacked and find out we were both wrong than not believe you and be sorry later."

Marty gave a short laugh, "That's some twisted logic you got there, Sam."

_**XxXxX**_

Well aware that her driving made Callen violently carsick for some reason, Kensi got into G's Mercedes. "What's got your socks in a knot anyway?" she asked.

"I don't know." G grumbled.

The corner of Kensi's mouth twisted in a half frown- half smile. "You don't know?" she buckled her seat belt; G was prone to sudden maneuvers.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something and it's driving me crazy." he shook his head, "I blame Sam."

"What did Sam do?"

"I don't know and I think that's part of the problem."

"Wow." Kensi didn't know what else to say.

"I feel like I have to keep an eye on him every minute or he's going to sneak away and tear Chris Santori's arms off."

"What's Santori done now?"

"He's sticking his nose and his fists into the investigation and it's pissing Sam off big time. The guy has been everywhere and talked to just about everyone, threatening most of them."

"Is Santori still a suspect?"

"Sam likes him for it, but I don't see it." G pulled out of the parking lot and sped along the street the muscles in his jaw moved as he clenched his teeth. "Sam treats Deeks like his little brother and I think it's clouding his judgment on this case."

Kensi wondered if she was imagining a hint of jealously in Callen's tone. She changed the subject, "So what's up with this guy Salsa?"

"Salas. G corrected, "He's a friend of the Navy fire controlman who was shot and killed behind St. Vibiana's. So far he's the only one of Eddie Tyler's friends we've been able to contact. He's agreed to meet us at a Navy hangout called Mootchie's."

Kensi pulled a face, "Mootchie's. Sounds real classy."

"A real dive." Callen joked, sending her a grin.

And it was. Mootchie's Oyster Bar is miles from the ocean, in the middle of the block on the bottom floor of a two story red brick building that had seen much better days when it had been a car dealership.

It was dark, dingy and crowded. Music blared at ear spitting level from a jukebox. The tiled floor was sticky with spilled drinks. The L shaped bar ran along the left side of the room and was being held down by a few regulars with bottles of beer in front of them. The other three quarters of the room was filled with cheap plastic tables and mismatched wooden kitchen chairs.

The bartender pointed to a table in the back after they gave him Dwight's name.

Dwight Salas' dark hair is shorter than Callen's, and cut recently, judging by the pale skin, with a wide strip down the center of his head just slightly longer than the rest. A dark, short beard and mustache framed his thin lips. He has a diamond stud in his left ear and a recently healed crescent shaped injury near his left eye. The tight grey tee shirt he is wearing has the sleeves torn off; his camouflage cargo pants fit snuggly, not really needing the studded leather belt. A wide leather band on his left wrist protected a watch.

The burn-scarred plastic tabletop has two empty beer bottles filled with the shredded remnants of the paper labels. A third bottle sits, half empty in front of Salas.

Kensi and G took seats across from the yeoman. Salas stood up and shook their hands, before sitting back down; he moved his chair so that he was sitting facing Kensi. He slouched in the seat; legs spread wide and presented Kensi with a grinning leer.

Callen wondered if Salas would be so blatantly inviting if he knew about Kensi's penchant for kicking a guy in the junk. He shuddered as a sympathetic twinge cut across his belly just thinking of her boot propelled by one of her long, beautifully muscled legs impacting with the unsuspecting guy's crotch.

"What can I do you for?" he asked Kensi.

She gave a slight shudder, "We'd like to ask you some questions about your friend Eddie Tyler."

"He's dead." Salas said.

"We know that," Callen sniffed, "do you have any idea why he was at St. Vibiana's that day?"

"Party? Charity art auction? Meeting a hooker?" his deep set eyes roved slowly up and down Kensi. "I don't keep track of his social schedule."

"Didn't."

"What?" he asked, finally looking at Callen.

"You said you _don't_ keep track of his social schedule."

Salas waved a hand as if shooing an annoying insect, "Whatever, man."

"Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to kill him?"

Dwight snorted, "Only about fifteen dozen guys."

"And their names?" Kensi asked.

"Just about anyone who ever served with him. Tyler was a dick, always borrowing money and never paying it back."

"He had over five hundred dollars cash in his wallet when he was killed." Callen said. "Do you know where he got that kind of money?"

"No clue. If I'd known he had it," his small nostrils flared, "I would have hit him up to repay some of what he owes me."

"Had he been acting strange lately?" Callen asked.

Dwight said, still leering at Kensi, "Not any more than usual."

"Has anyone been asking around about him?"

"Nope." He picked up the bottle and swallowed most of the remaining beer, then belched loudly.

Callen pulled a card from his wallet and dropped it on the table. "Thanks for your help. If you can think of anything else that might help us find out who killed your friend, give me call."

Salas tapped the card with a grimy fingernail, "You got a card sweet cheeks? I'm sure you could help me think of a lot of things."

Kensi got up, "Sorry, no. I gave my last one out this morning." she hurried out to the car; Callen followed her at amore sedate pace.

"Oh. My. God." she made a gagging sound as she stood by the Mercedes. "Take me home, I need to shower in some bleach."

Callen unlocked the doors. "Really?" he mocked her.

Kensi slid into the seat, "No. No, you're right. I need something stronger. What's stronger than bleach?"

"Acid?" Callen teased, getting behind the wheel. 

"Yeah. Yeah, acid might do it."

_**XxXxX**_

"Mr. Deeks," said Hetty appearing silently beside his desk, "Would you please phone your physician and reassure him that you have not ceased to breathe? He lost the telemetry signal from your respirometer when you entered OSP building and he's been frantic since."

"Huh?"

"Please call Dr. Lassiter and let him know that you are doing fine," she raised an eyebrow; "you _are_ fine, are you not?"

"Just a headache, it's nothing really." the detective stammered. "I don't need to lie down, I took some Advil, I'm fine."

Hetty met Sam's eyes for a moment, silently asking his opinion and the former seal nodded slightly. She gestured to the detective, "Call."

"I will," he fumbled with his phone, "I'm doing it right now."

Sam's lips pressed together in a tight smile, "You still wishing you could put that bell around her neck?"

Deeks nodded, "All the time." He called Dr. Lassiter and explained that the office he was working in was in the center of a large concrete building, thus the interruption in the signal. "I'm fine, really." he assured the doctor, "I'll call if I have any problems."

_**ZZZZzzzzzzz**_

**frostfalcon: **I'm glad you're caught up , thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Ryla:** Thanks for your encouragement! I hope I can continue to keep your interest

**LisaG16**: *sending you a Deeks clone to hug!*

**quiltingbren**: I miss Nate sooooo much! Deeks is so complicated I jus feel like he and Nate would interact wonderfully.

**amy fuller**: Sorry I've left you hanging for so long! ;) I hope this makes up for it!

And to my two most ardent supporters:

**Amblue36**: You are the best encouragement EVER!

**Lostforeverinhiseyes:** Thanks so much for encouraging me to keep going.

And to everyone else who is still reading this monster: I hope I will not disappoint any of you!

I feel like the ending of this chapter is a little abrupt but I really wanted to get something posted because it's been too long since my last update.

I was laid off from my job, was called back, missed several days due to flooding and then fired because they have a REALLY strict No-Fault attendance policy so I've been job hunting while trying to get back into writing this.

I signed up with a temp agency and my first and only job so far was a one day gig at a convention thing doing clerical work. *sigh*


	14. Chapter 14

Sam left and came back a few minutes later, laying a sandwich on Deeks desk.

"What's this?" Deeks asked, suspiciously.

"It's about time you ate something."

Deeks peeled the sandwich open, "Turkey on whole wheat?"

"With stone ground mustard, cheese, lettuce and tomato."

Deeks grinned at Sam, "You make this yourself?"

Sam sat down in his chair and shuffled through the papers on his desk, not looking at the detective. "Nope."

"Where did you get it?"

"Home."

"So if you didn't make it …"

"Just eat the damn sandwich." Sam tossed him a pint bottle of milk.

"What, no cookie?"

"I'll give you a cookie." Sam growled, hiding a grin.

"Thanks." Deeks took a bite of the sandwich. "Mmm. This is really good."

Deeks startled, almost choking on his milk when Hetty spoke from behind the screen.

"Mr. Hanna, Chris Santori called and he insists on meeting with you to give you some new information on the Robert Lansing murder. He will meet you at the boathouse."

"Me?"

"You or Mr. Callen. Since Kensi and G are still interviewing one of the friends from your other open case, I suggest that you meet with Mr. Santori."

"What about…" Sam waved at Deeks who was hurriedly finishing off the sandwich.

"Take him with you, Mr. Hanna. He _is_ your partner for the afternoon."

"But…"

"The case is getting colder, Mr. Hanna." She made a shooing motion with her hands. "Go. Now."

Sam grabbed his jacket and headed out to the challenger, Deeks close on his heels.

Chris Santori was waiting at the boathouse, pacing in front of the door.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, "I called like twenty times!"

Sam glowered at the ex Navy man, "We've got other leads to follow, I can't drop everything and come running whenever you call." Sam opened the door and Santori pushed in ahead of him.

"Well _I've_ got important leads!" Chris dropped into one of the mismatched chairs at the table, ignoring Sam's pointed look at the door to the interrogation room. "I found a lead on the guy who killed Robert."

"Robert who?" asked Deeks.

Santori stopped, cocked his head and glared at Deeks. "I know you from somewhere." he growled.

"I don't think so," Deeks said with a puzzled frown, "I've positive we've never met."

Santori reached out and grabbed the detective, "Yeah, yeah I do know you. You used to be a lawyer before you became a cop."

"I was." Deeks admitted, disentangling himself and stepping back.

"You defended my cousin Bobby on a GTA charge." He grinned, "You were a hell of a defense lawyer, why'd you go to the other side?

Deeks shrugged and Santori went back to glowering at Sam.

"I found the jewelry store Robert visited on the day he was murdered but the damn owner won't let me see the footage from the store. All he did was tell me that Robert was being shadowed by some white guy in a pea coat."

"Pea coat?" asked Deeks.

"Yeah, a green jacket." Chris turned to Sam, "You know the kind I'm talking about, right?"

Sam nodded, "Like they give you in the military."

"Yeah."

"A green fiber was recovered from one of Robert's fingernails." Sam admitted, "It could have come from a coat like that."

"So this guy had to have been the one that killed him." Chris insisted, "We have to get his picture off that video camera and nail the bastard."

"Not we." Sam said. "You aren't going with us."

"Damn it, it's **MY** clue!" Santori shouted, jumping up and knocking the chair over.

"And you are a civilian, not a cop." Sam reminded him. "My partner and I will check it out, see if we can identify this guy and then get back to you."

"Fucking better get back to me!" Santori yelled, "I'm doing more to solve Robert's murder than all of you put together."

_ZZzzzzzz_

I'm so, so sorry it's taken me so very long to get another chapter up and sorry that it's such a short one this time. My frustration level with this got really out of hand and coupled with some other problems I just let it slip.

I'm getting back into it now, actually got the end written, I just have to knit something for the between parts now.

A big, big thank you goes to Amblue36 who kept prodding me, propping me up and encouraging me even though she's going through a rough time herself.

I hope to have another chapter, a longer one, up soon.


	15. Chapter 15

_This chapter brought to you by back-to-back reading of Stieg Larsson and by music from Bang Gang_

"What is the name of jewelry store?"

"It's San Démondé." Santori pushed himself against Sam, jabbing his index finger into the taller man's chest. "I can and will stick closer to you than your damn deodorant!"

Sam looked coolly at Chris, "We will handle this, you just need to step back and let us do our job." He said calmly.

"Then do it so I don't have to!" Santori spun away and stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

"That guy has some anger management issues." Deeks breathed. "And quite possibly a death wish." He mumbled.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "He seem at all familiar to you?"

Deeks looked puzzled, "No, should he?"

"You don't recognize his voice or his face?"

"I don't even remember his cousin, much less that guy. What's the deal, Sam?"

"I pegged him for involvement in your case."

"My case? What case?" Deeks shrugged, "I don't have a case."

"The guy you didn't kill. Robert Lansing."

Realization dawned on Marty's face, "Oh, that case. So what's Santori got to do with it?"

"Santori was a friend of Lansing's; he's got the skills for it and a shaky alibi."

"And the impulsive anger thing." Deeks added.

_**XxXxXx**_

It didn't take Sam long to arrive at the jewellery store, it did take Deeks several seconds to release his terrified grip on the car's door.

For once Marty's LAPD credentials seemed to carry more weight with the owner of the store than Sam's NCIS shield. They were admitted into the office only after Deeks passed over his identification.

Berge Nilsson nodded, gave a stiff smile and handed Deeks back his credentials.

"I did have words with a tough young man who threatened me with violence if I did not cooperate with him." Nilsson admitted. "He indicated that he would turn the matter over to some sort of lettered government agency, I can only assume he meant you." He eyed Sam apprehensively.

"Do you have the surveillance video of Robert Lansing?" asked Sam.

"I do." He got up, "Please, come with me and I will allow you to view it in our security office."

"No copy?" Deeks asked.

"I'm sorry, no. We prefer to keep our customers shopping habits private."

The footage from the electronically locked front door was clear, taken by the most up to date surveillance cameras on the market. It showed a white male, approximately 25 years old with brown hair trying unsuccessfully to enter the store.

"He attempted to come in shortly after Mr. Lansing. We admit only those who have made an appointment and have the proper identification. Two of our security officers escorted him to the corner."

"Did he leave?"

"They did not stay to see where he went."

"So it's possible that this guy waited until Mr. Lansing left your establishment and then attacked and murdered your customer." Sam said.

Nilsson gave a visible shudder, closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to compose himself. "It is possible. We normally do not accompany our customers outside the building unless they have made a purchase or ask for an escort."

Sam asked the technician to freeze the footage so that it showed a clear view of the suspect's face. He used his cell phone to take a photo of the film.

They thanked Nilsson for his help and walked back out to the car.

"Eric, I'm sending you a still from a surveillance camera, can you get an ID for me?"

"You betcha, Sam." Eric replied, "Back in a few."

"Are G and Kensi back yet?"

"Nope. They haven't called in yet either."

"When they do, let them know where we are, okay?"

"Dinner in Beverley Hills?" Eric teased.

"We'll bring you a doggy bag." Deeks kidded back.

"What did you get off that card the witness at the church gave us?"

"Mostly junk." Eric replied, "He may be an architectural student but his photography skills leave a lot to be desired. Though he does have a good eye for the local beach bunnies."

"Really?" asked Deeks with a mischievous grin.

Sam cleared his throat, "So nothing that would help us out on the case?"

"Sorry, no. I made a copy of the file and FedExed the card back to him."

"I think I should take a look at that file when we get back, just to make sure you didn't miss anything." said Deeks.

"What about the van from earlier?" Sam asked in an attempt to get the conversation back on the cases.

"Nothing on that front either. LAPD found it abandoned, it was stolen from a cleaning business this morning. It had been wiped clean but we did recover all of Deeks and Kensi's stuff."

Marty cocked his head, "Well that's good news at least. But I'm still gonna change all my locks."

"Got your zealous jewelry shopper; I've sent his details and home address to your phones."

"Thanks Eric."

_**XxXxXx**_

When G and Kensi returned, Eric stepped to the edge of the balcony, "Heads up Kensi, your partner is missing some of his cents." he made a wild toss to Kensi who missed it completely. The nickel hit the desk, bounced off and rolled across the floor.

Callen trapped the coin with the toe of his shoe and picked it up; he stared at the coin for a moment. "Hetty! Hetty?" he shouted.

Their diminutive boss stepped to the edge of her office space with a curious look.

"What is it Mr. Callen?" she asked.

"Do you have one of those little things?" he made a twisting motion with his thumb and forefinger, "that thing you fix your glasses with?"

"A micro driver?" she asked.

"Yes, one of those."

She turned back to her desk and picked up a small case, opened it and handed G a tiny steel screwdriver.

"G, what are you doing?" asked Kensi.

He didn't answer, just continued to fumble with the coin and screwdriver.

"Allow me." Hetty held out her hand and Callen gave her the items. "It takes a delicate touch." Seconds later she had the coin split open on her palm. "Is this what you were hoping for?"

G took the two pieces of the nickel from her with a nod, "Thanks, Hetty."

"What have you got?" Kensi asked.

"It's a micro SD card, like the ones in a cell phone." Callen ran upstairs with Kensi on his heels. He carefully handed the half of the coin containing the card to Eric. "Can you find out what's on this Eric?"

The tech accepted the coin half, "Not a problem. I can set it up on the wall screen." He removed the card and slipped it into a slot.

A red screen came up, white numbers scrolled up rapidly then text flashed that went too quickly for anyone to read.

The image on the screen suddenly tilted, shrank and disappeared. The entire display flashed red several times accompanied by a metallic squawk and then went black. The power in the ops center flickered and the sound of the humming computers that was a nearly silent background noise stopped completely.

"Mr. Beal." said Hetty sternly from the doorway.

"It's Callen's fault," Eric panicked, pointing at the agent with a shaky hand, "he told me to do it!"

The power slowly came back up in the building. The computers all showed blank blue screens but were humming.

Eric tapped at the data pad he held, his eyes flickering between it and the blank screens.

"Mr. Beal?" asked Hetty.

"It's okay," Eric replied, "mostly."

"Mostly? Exactly what does that mean?" asked Kensi.

"There's nothing wrong with our system, no intrusions or anything, it just shut down and is rebooting."

"What's on the card?"

Eric's lips were a thin line as he tapped on the pad, "I don't know. Yet." He laid the pad down and logged onto his desktop computer. "This could take a while," he apologized and dropped into the task chair with a sigh.

For several minutes he tapped madly on the keyboard with no apparent effect on the system. He paused for a moment, chewed on his bottom lip and then went back to typing.

Eric's face was white, his mouth moved but no sound came out. His eyes stayed focused on the screen, lines of code streamed while his fingers flew across the rattling keys.

"Could you stop speaking in a pitch that only dogs can hear and tell us what that is?" G demanded.

Eric swallowed hard, "It's the command codes for launching strategic missiles located on our military ships currently stationed in the Indian Ocean."

"Stop playing with it!" Kensi panicked.

"It's okay, I've isolated the command structures, it can't communicate with the launch consoles." He typed some more, "I think."

"Mr. Beal." Hetty warned.

"I'm pretty sure it can't." Eric stammered, "I think that it cut off all external communications when I opened it." He typed some more and shook his head. "That's it, we're down."

"Explain, please, Mr. Beal." Said Hetty patiently.

"When I opened the file it shut down all the external communication systems."

"And that means what?" Callen asked.

"No cell phones, no surveillance cameras, no computers, no com links. I can't communicate with anything or anyone outside this building."

_**ZZZzzzzzzzz**_

Special Thanks to those who have encouraged and supported me, you have no idea how much it means!

The-Hunters-Girl, Clarkson, pallysjr8855, Ms. B. Haven, EnsignRo, CherokeeIrish, Lady Seraphina, frostfalcon and Ryla

And to amblue36 who is always there when I need a pick me up or a boot to the head

**YOU'RE THE BEST! **

Yeah, no Nell in this chapter either…

She's growing on me but I feel like she takes away a lot of the attention Eric should have.

NATE! I MISS YOU!


	16. Chapter 16

_Some adult language in this chapter_

_**XxXxXx**_

They were stopped at the light on Alameda when Deeks suddenly tugged on Sam's sleeve.

"That's him! That's the guy from the surveillance camera!"

"Where?"

Deeks pointed, "The crappy red sedan that just went through the light."

Sam tromped on the accelerator and made an illegal turn accompanied by a multitude of horns and screeching tires.

The sedan was just ahead of them; Sam trailed it, two cars between them.

They followed it for nearly six miles; it finally turned off at a decrepit looking abandoned building. Sam drove on past and parked half a block away.

They jogged back and slid through a gap in the wooden fence. Two other cars were parked next to the sedan they'd been trailing, one older model car and a newer one with a rental sticker on the bumper.

Sam pulled his gun and signaled Deeks to circle to the right while he went left.

The building was just a skeleton; most of the walls had been removed leaving only the weight bearing walls and cement pillars. It didn't give them much cover but it made it easy to spot the gathering of men on the second floor. Three of the men faced an older man who was by the tone of his voice berating them for something. Sam and Deeks crept closer and they could make out what he was saying.

"I've already paid you half of the fee and I have nothing to show for it!"

"We'll get it; just give us a little more time."

"I've waited almost a month; I think that is more than enough time. You are so inept that I hate to waste another bullet on the rest of you but I am losing my patience."

"We can get it back, I know who has it now and I can get it back."

"Last chance then. If I don't have my merchandise by 2 p.m. tomorrow I will be reimbursed."

"We'll get it, I swear."

The older man turned abruptly and Sam and Deeks had just enough time to hide before he strode past them, downstairs and got into the rental car and drove away.

"FUCK!" one of the other men shouted. "We are so fucking DEAD! Why the fuck did you tell him you knew where the nickel was and that we could get it?"

"I had to tell him something or he would have killed us just like he did Eddie."

"What are we going to do? We can't just hand him a nickel with a blank disk in it and there's no way we can get another copy of the launch codes by tomorrow afternoon."

Deeks drew Sam's attention to a grey box strapped to one of the nearby pillars. The duo crept back away from the group and Sam took a closer look at the box.

"It's a detonator." Sam whispered. "The building is going to be imploded."

Deeks looked panicked.

"Not anytime soon," Sam reassured the detective. "The timer is set to go off in about six hours, we have plenty of time."

"That's what you think."

They looked up to see the trio they had been watching. The men were all armed with pistols.

"Drop your guns."

_**XxXxXx**_

"So where are Sam and Deeks?"

"I don't know. I sent them information on a lead in the Lansing case and they went to interview a suspect." 

"Who was the suspect?"

"I don't know." Eric replied, "I don't make a note of the information; I just send it on to you guys."

"Can't you pull it up in the computer or the phones or something?" G asked.

"Nothing is working. Coms are down. I can't access GPS for the phones either."

G pulled out his phone and tried to call his partner but the phone made no sound and showed a blank blue screen. He showed it to Kensi and she tried her phone with the same result.

"What about Kaleidoscope? Can you track them with street cams?" asked Kensi.

"I can't… I can't communicate with anything. We're blind and deaf right now."

"Miss Blye, Mr. Callen. I have a very irate doctor on the land line." She shook her head in confusion, "I have no idea how he got that number. I need you to pick him up at the boathouse without delay."

"What? Who?" asked Callen.

"Dr. Lassiter is very upset about the telemetry he is receiving from Mr. Deeks respiratory monitor. If I understand him correctly I believe that he can track Mr. Hanna and Mr. Deeks with his equipment."

"Let's go!" Kensi shouted.

G glared at Kensi, "I'm driving."

"Hetty?" Eric called, "Sorry to interrupt, but SECNAV is on the landline." He frowned; "I think we're in trouble."

"_You're_ in trouble, Mr. Beal." Hetty replied, climbing the stairs.

"But it was Callen's idea!" Eric winced.

_**XxXxXx**_

Doctor Vin Lassiter was pacing in front of the boathouse when they arrived. He folded his lanky frame into the backseat and explained, "I can't drive an' triangulate this signal at the same time."

"Which way, Doc?" aksed Callen.

"East." Lassiter pointed, "I'll let you know when to turn."

They were quiet for several minutes, then Lassiter spoke again,

"Now go north."

Callen turned and sped up.

"Not so fast son, this thing ain't a GPS."

"Sorry," Callen said, "I just want to find them as fast as possible."

"Won't be faster if we have to crisscross our trail."

Kensi twisted in her seat to look at the equipment Dr Lassiter was holding. "What is that anyway?"

"It's a modified version of a telemetry receiver." He held the screen up so Kensi could look at it. "I had a tech friend tweek it after I had some trouble keeping up with a rap singer I was treating last year. Some fella with initials instead of a name, big bald guy with a tattoo of a microphone on his arm?"

G shook his head, "Don't know him. How does it work?"

"Normally it picks up the respirations of the patient and sends it to this receiver. With normal respirations it does it for 60 seconds every hour. If it detects abnormal respirations, breathing too slow, too shallow or too fast it will trigger the sensors to record the respirations and pulse and transmit it for 90 seconds every 10 minutes."

"So how can you track Deeks with it?"

"It's not the most accurate thing; it basically tells me if the receiver is closer or further away as I move."

"How often is it sending?"

"Been triggering every ten minutes for the last hour or so."

"That's not good is it?"

"Not unless he's on a roller coaster or having an afternoon delight it you take my meaning."

Kensi frowned, "He'd better not be."

G smiled, "It would be better than the alternative."

"Turn right." Vin made a disappointed sound, "Right again."

"We're going back the way we came." Kensi grumbled.

Aggravation and apprehension made his accent more pronounced. "You want precision; get one a yore fancy government toys ta workin'." He cursed softly, "I've lost the signal."

"What does that mean?" asked Callen.

"It's stopped transmitting."

"Why?" Kensi's voice trembled.

"Could be it's not on him anymore or it could be that he's stopped breathing."

**ZZZZzzzzzzzz**

Thanks **Sarah**! I never could get a beta and I miss some things.

**SunnyCitrus10** Welcome! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

**linda** I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope I can keep your interest! Chapter one of Elegant Agony is posted at The WWOMB.

**Jazzmonkey** Thank you! Eric is in trouble now LOL!

**pallysjr8855** Thank you for reading and reviewing!

**Emceejay** I love Marty too, though some wonder why I'm so mean to someone I profess to adore!

**Lanteaddicted** and **amblue36,** thanks you so very, very much for all your encouragement! You're AWESOME

**YAY!** I have a job finally! It's second shift and it's taking me forever to get used to the hours but I love the people and the pay is Fantastic! Unfortunately I'm working while NCIS:LA is on .

Soon I hope to buy a TV of my very own and get some kind of dish so I can record it and watch it later.

Eric Christian Olsen will be Tweeting **LIVE** during next week's finale, so get on Twitter!

Tweet him a hug for me?

I meant to have this chapter up yesterday but I overslept and got up just in time to go to work.


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